


Powerless

by Cordria



Category: Danny Phantom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 11:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21014762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordria/pseuds/Cordria
Summary: What would happen if Vlad took every single plot he'd ever devised and threw them together into the master of all schemes? He'd have a mess, that's what. But in the end, everyone - including Vlad - are powerless in the hands of fate. (Originally posted to Fanfiction in 2006. Reposted here in 2019. Not yet edited.)





	1. Prologue

Far in the depths of the Ghost Zone, way beyond Skulker's lair and even beyond the forgotten realms of UnderGrowth, there exists a door. This isn't just any door: it is a special door that no ghost has ever entered willingly. This door lies at the very edge of the infinite realms of the Ghost Zone… and behind this one small, insignificant doorway lies the ghostly lair of a very ancient and powerful spirit.

At a night-black table in the center of the lair sits a young woman; looking no more than twelve or thirteen, she is almost a girl still. Her large, ragged, jacket is covered in dozens of pockets and her hair hangs down her back in long, dirty gray dreadlocks. She is shuffling a large deck of cards, her gray eyes focused intently on what she is doing. After cutting the deck once, she begins to lay the cards on the table.

The first card she lays down is one she had been drawing a lot lately. On the card is a detailed painting of a young man dressed as a court jester, standing with a rose in one hand and a sword slung over his shoulder. The painting of the young man seems to glow as ectoplasm races through the card as she touches it with her fingertips. "The Fool," she whispers. _Beginning. Spontaneity. Innocence. Unlimited potential_. A small smile graces her grey face. This is a good card.

Next to it, she lays another card. On it, a deceitful man is stealing glowing swords from behind the backs of some relaxing soldiers. "The Five of Swords." She has been drawing this card for years. _Self-interest. Discord. Dishonor._ Staring into the eyes of the painted man, she smiles. She has been drawing the Five of Swords and The Fool together quiet often; two souls whose existences are intertwined.

Under those two, she places a third card. A young woman seated on a bench, blindfolded, two glowing swords raised and crossed before her. "The Two of Swords." _Blocking. Barriers. Avoidance. Stalemate._ The gray ghost smiles to herself. "The Fool and the Five of Swords are finally on even footing. This will be interesting."

Moving on, she grabs the fourth card and places it above the first three for form a diamond shape. This card is of a compass-like wheel, angels flying around the edges. "The Wheel of Fortune," she hisses, surprised to be drawing another major arcana card. _Movement. Change. Turning points. Destiny._

She hesitates, staring at the four cards lying in a diamond before her. They do not bode well. Finally, she picks up her fifth and final card. A glowing priestess standing between a black pillar and a white pillar. A smile crosses the gray ghost's face as she places the last card into the center of the diamond she has made. "The High Priestess." _Potential. Mystery. Intuition. Trust._ "My card. And in the center of the others as well."

The gray ghost sits back, contemplating the five card spread. There is no need to do a more complicated reading. The answer is obvious. She looks up and sighs. "It is time."


	2. The High Priestess

I love movie nights.

I relaxed in to the humongous arm chair, my eyes almost closing as I fought back what was probably the fifth yawn of the night. Listening to the poorly animated movie monsters snarling and growling in the background, I let a small smile cross my face. The chairs were soft, the popcorn was fresh and buttery, and my friends were with me. There was no where in the world I'd rather be.

Oh yeah. I _love_ movie nights.

"Danny!" my best friend hissed. My eyes popped open in time to watch her reach over a punch my arm, her eyes flashing dangerously in the darkened room.

"What?" I complained, rubbing my arm. It hadn't really hurt – she can hit a lot harder than that – but I needed to act hurt on principle. She'd hit _harder_ next time if I didn't.

"You are not allowed to fall asleep during _my_ movie!"

"I wasn't sleeping," I mumbled, grinning as her eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath. She was cute when she was gearing up to rant… but I'd never tell her that. My life and her friendship were worth too much.

"I don't even know why I try with you two," she huffed, crossing her arms sourly and glaring at the screen. "When you pick the movie, I'm forced to watch whatever mindless drivel you drag up. When _I_ pick the movie, one of you falls asleep and the other can't put down that stupid PDA for two seconds. It never fails!"

"I _wasn't_ sleeping," I reiterated. "I'm just really tired. The Box Ghost tried to hold up a Kwick delivery truck last night and it turned into an all-night, semi-high-speed chase."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered darkly, but her glare relented a little bit and she sent me a smile. "But that doesn't excuse PDA-boy over there."

"I can hear you, you know," Tucker said softly. "I'm actually updating our Ghost Files with some of those new ghosts we've met recently: the plant one that tried to eat us last week, that half-jaguar half-frog… thing, and that glob that tried to eat Mrs. Perkensin's gardenias." He looked up at us, blinking the PDA screen-shaped stars out of his eyes. "I'll be done in a few. But how you can possibly call _that_ a movie is beyond me."

Sam let out a slow breath and relaxed back into her chair. "I happen to enjoy B-rated flicks."

"Sam," I grinned, "this isn't good enough to be a B-rated movie. This is at least an E. It's not in color and the plot isn't anywhere near believable."

"Like our life is believable," she laughed. "We almost got eaten by a possessed _rose bush_ last weekend, Danny. Our life has no plot; it's just a bunch of bizarre and unconnected episodes. Now shut up. This is a good part in the movie."

Listening to the horrible screaming in the background, I shook my head and stood up. "I'm going to get a soda, anyone else want one?" Neither of them spoke, and I didn't bother to turn around to see if they were nodding. We'd been friends since forever… I knew they were both nodding. One would be mouthing 'Mr. Pepper' and they other had 'no ice please' forming on her lips. If they wanted something different than they usual, they would have said something.

Reaching for a couple of the cups, I shivered, freezing in place. I knew it wasn't a ghost since my ghost sense was always accompanied by a dead feeling curling around my heart, but I still glanced around in surprise. These cold shivers had been happening all week and I hadn't been able to figure them out.

With an almost soundless pop and fizzle, the soda machine I was standing next to stopped working. I stared at it for a long moment and waited for the quiet hum of the motor to come back. My breath fogged in the air and my nose started to tingle because of the chill in the air. Licking my lips, I took a step away from the soda machine and slowly brought my hands back to my sides.

And just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. Warmth rushed against my skin. I twisted my head around to glance over at my friends; neither one of them appeared to have noticed that anything had happened. "Freaky," I breathed. Was this a new power or just some odd thing that happened to ghost hybrids?

Either way, I didn't feel like mentioning it to Sam and Tucker yet. I wanted to wait until after the movie night – nothing needed to spoil this.

I carefully walked back up the soda machine and thumped it with my finger. The motor was still out. "Sam, I think your soda machine is broken."

She twisted around in her chair and blinked into the darkness. "It's probably just the refrigerator part of it. The soda machine will still work; the soda will just be a little warm."

"Extra ice for me then," Tucker said over some more screams.

I rolled my eyes and pushed a cup against the spout, watching the soda spill into the three cups. One Mr. Pepper with extra ice, one Sparkle with no ice, and one fizzy lemonade for me.

"Excellent," Tucker praised when I handed him his cup, more ice than soda. He turned off his PDA and dropped it onto the armrest, cradling the soda in his hand and snatching a straw from me.

Sam smiled, "Thanks," when she got hers, amethyst eyes sparkling into my own for just a few breathless seconds. Then she turned back to her movie, and that was that. I blinked at her before my mind kicked back into gear and I settled back down into my chair.

Quietly using my straw to stir my ice cubes, I really tried to watch the movie Sam had picked out, but my own thoughts kept interrupting me. Normal teenage problems swirled around in my head faster than the ice in my soda: Dash's latest threat about Monday morning, that big test in math class I hadn't studied for, even the look my mom was going to give me when she found out that I hadn't cleaned my room yet. Those I could handle and were easily shoved out of my mind. It was these _other_ problems that had been plaguing me.

Could I really have some new power showing up? There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to what triggered it, and _I _felt no different when it was going on – other than the fact that I was freezing cold. All my other powers were usually conscious decisions on my part. This was something… else. For some reason, it felt like it was beyond me, bigger than me. It was like staring up at the stars and feeling how absolutely small and insignificant you really are.

Not to mention the weird things the Box Ghost had been muttering last night. Ancients and cards, powers and destruction, the return of the end, something about Vlad getting into something he should be… I didn't even want to know what that ghost was talking about.

And then that other problem. I pressed my back firmly into the chair and stared down into the lazily circling ice cubes, trying my best not to glance up at the girl who had been haunting my dreams lately. Not in a million _years_ was I going to tell her why I was so adamant about Tucker coming along every time we went someplace. I did _not_ want to be alone with her.

I was not going to ruin one of the only true friendships I had left. This was just some silly crush that I was _going_ to get over. Someday.

My eyes flickered over to her silhouette. She was leaning forwards in her chair, laughing at something that had happened in the movie. A glance at the screen showed me a scene of someone dying a horrific (and horribly over-acted) death, covered in volumes of gelatin-like blood. Not something a normal girl would be laughing at.

I knew I was smiling as I sat there, not watching the movie, my head spinning with problems no sixteen-year-old should have to face. Despite everything that was going to come crashing down around my ears, I was happy.

I love movie nights.

* * *

"Are you quite through, Mr. Fenton?"

I jerked my head up from my doodlings to glance into the rather annoyed eyes of my sometimes vice-principal and sometimes English teacher. "Um… what?" I asked.

"You have been humming incessantly for the past few minutes. I was wondering if you were finished so our class could continue."

I blinked, startled. "I've been humming?"

"Yes, Mr. Fenton."

"Sorry." I fell silent and watched the overweight teacher walk back up the front of the class to continue his lecture. He managed to hold my attention for a few minutes as he droned on about medieval poetry, but my eyes dropped back to my notebook. The entire page was covered in useless doodles. I hadn't even attempted to take notes.

There were a few sketches of ghosts here and there and a picture of Sam lounging in her chair on movie night, but the biggest drawing was one that was half finished. My fingers itched for me to move my pencil over to it and continue the picture. It was of a strange young girl with ragged hair and a huge jacket. She was holding a deck of cards in one hand and holding a card out towards him with the other.

I had no idea why I was drawing it or where she had come from.

The weirdest part is that I'm not an artist – there are kindergarteners that can draw better than I can. But this drawing… this was impossibly good. This was freaky talk-to-friends-and-Jazz-after-school weird.

The thought came completely unbidden, yet fully formed in my head. Could this have something to do with those cold episodes that had been plaguing me?

I glanced back up at Lancer, who was deep into his lecture again, before returning my gaze to the strange picture. It was true that doodling had become sort of an obsession lately, but for some reason it felt like this was more than just a great way to look like you were paying attention when you really weren't. It felt like I was _supposed_ to be doodling, like there was a reason, or…

I shook my head. Trying to figure this out would be rather pointless in the end. I'd never get the right answer before whatever destiny had cooked up slapped me in the face. It was better, for me, to just know it was coming and learn to roll with the punches.

My pencil scraped against the paper, my head bent down to watch the smooth flow of lines across the white expanse, and all thoughts about strange powers and drawings stopped plaguing me as I lost myself in the drawing.

* * *

When the bell rang, startling me out of my blank doodling state, the sketch of the strange girl was done. For some reason it _felt_ like it was totally complete, even though the girl vanished from the knees down. It was an odd picture, almost photo-like with all the details I'd managed to put into it over the course of just the one class. She had dark, almost soulless eyes, a gray jacket that was covered in pockets, and her dirty hair fell in dreadlocks down past her shoulders.

The playing card that she was holding was small, but clear. It wasn't a card like any I'd ever seen before – it wasn't a two of clubs or a queen of hearts or something. On it, a man was struggling to carry and armload of sticks. I shivered and quietly shut the notebook before anyone else could see.

If I couldn't explain the drawing to myself, there was no way I would be able to explain it to someone else. Those were questions better left avoided.

"Mr. Fenton, may I speak with you a moment before you go."

I sighed, cursing inside my head. Lancer always seemed to know when I wasn't paying attention in class… but he called me on it during class. I was going to have a _ton_ of homework tonight as a punishment. Darn it.

Sam touched my shoulder and I glanced at her. A question was glittering in her eyes and I smiled. "I'll meet you outside in a few minutes, okay?" She nodded and grabbed my stuff, towing Tucker out the door behind her.

"Is everything okay at home?" Lancer asked when the door snickered shut behind them.

"What?" I set down my backpack and stared at him in surprise. Here I was, all ready to apologize for doodling through class instead of paying attention, and he asks… what?

"You've been more out of it than usual, Danny. I know you don't get enough sleep at home – but lately you aren't just falling asleep in my class. You're off in your own world."

I glanced down at my notebook, raising an eyebrow. There was some truth in that statement… I really had no idea what they had covered in class today. Come to think of it, most of the school day was a blank.

"And today. You wouldn't stop humming."

"I wasn't humming," I protested, ripping my eyes away from the notebook and looking him in the eyes.

"Yes. You were. From what I could see and hear you were humming softly to yourself, and drawing almost feverishly. You were kind of rocking back and forth by the end of the class."

I blinked, startled. I didn't remember that. All I was doing was drawing, right? But Lancer wouldn't lie to me… he wouldn't make that up… Confusion was making my neck tense up and I reached up to rub the back of my neck. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I did, Danny." He sighed and leaned against a desk, studying me. "So did Ms. Manson and Mr. Foley. Sam must have poked you with her pencil a dozen times to get you to be quiet."

My mouth must have dropped open, judging from the look on Lancer's face. How could all of this have happened without me knowing?

"I'm worried about you, Danny," he continued. "I want to talk to you and try to figure out what's wrong." He let out a breath and rubbed his hand through his balding hair. "Or, if you want, I can set up an appointment with a counselor."

"Um…" I had no idea what to say. I was doing things without knowing about it, drawing things I didn't understand and with a skill I didn't possess, and feeling so cold… My stomach dropped. Was this some kind of new power or some kind of new _ghost_ possessing me? One that wouldn't set off my ghost sense like the others did?

Lancer was still waiting for my answer. I scrambled for something to say. Sitting down and talking to Lancer right now wasn't something I wanted to do. I needed to get out and clear my head. I needed to fly…

"Give me until tomorrow to think about it?" I winced. That was a horrible excuse, but Lancer seemed to buy it.

"Alright. But tell me your decision by the end of school."

"Okay." I turned around to leave, my mind a mess. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Mr. Fenton. Thank you."

* * *

Outside the door deep in the far reaches of the ghost zone, a vampire-like ghost with glowing red eyes waited. A nasty grin was plastered on his face. It had taken him quite a while to convince Skulker and, oddly, the Box Ghost, into giving him the exact location of this door. He knew what was behind this door.

Plasmius double-checked the small device he had brought with him. It was called the Plasmius Bender and it was his latest invention. It was also his greatest invention, the plans and the pieces stolen from Technus and improved upon. It had been designed, in fact, just for the ghost hiding behind this door.

He grabbed the door knob and pushed the door open, entering a lair unlike any he had every seen before. Long sheets of brightly colored fabric were draped from the ceiling. Chains of beads and small crystals dangled everywhere. Huge, multi-colored pillows were cast about on the soft floor and small candles dotted the edges of the room, casting flickering lights into the gloomy shadows. A huge bookcase with uncountable books sat against one wall and, in the very center of the menagerie of colors, fabrics, and pillows, sat a pure black round table… its top no higher than a hand-span off the ground.

Sitting perched on the top of table, was the object of his desire. One very young-looking ghost; drab and gray in the colorful mess of a lair. She was gazing at him, her soulless gray eyes trained on his glowing red ones. A ghostly breeze blew through the room, causing a few of her dirty dreadlocks to shift in front of her face. Plasmius blinked a few times, startled by the aura of power around her.

"Five of Swords," she whispered, her face blank and expressionless.

Plasmius raised his invention, pointed it at the gray ghost, and pulled the trigger. A beam of red light shot towards the gray ghost, catching her between the eyes. "You are mine, ghost," Plasmius hissed.

"As you say, master," the gray ghost murmured, her soulless eyes unfocused as the Bender wove through her mind and broke whatever will she had left.

"You will come with me."

"Yes, master," the gray ghost whispered. She stood up and drifted forwards, her legs vanishing up to her knees. She drifted to his side, and then stood, waiting for instructions.

"Come." Plasmius strode back through the gray door, his newest servant two steps behind.

The gray ghost turned her head slightly before she left, flickering all of the ghost candles out of existence. It would not do to have her lair burn while she was out. Quietly shutting the door, she drew a card out of her pocket and glanced at it. A happy family, standing under a rainbow of glowing cups. "The Ten of Cups." The gray ghost smiled to herself as her eyes flickered back to gray for a moment, tucking the card away and following her new master to his domain. _Things are as they should be_.

* * *

Walking out of class, I shot a glance down the hallway. Sam and Tucker were gone, presumably waiting outside under the tree like they always were. I hesitated, stuffing the notebook into my backpack and trying to decide if now would be a great time to talk to them. I should… I promised I'd meet them outside and there'd be hell to pay if I ditched them, especially after what seemed to have happened in class today.

But I really needed to clear my head, and the best way to do that was to fly. Going out and telling them I was going to fly home would lead to a bombardment of questions that wouldn't let up. I sighed, resolving myself to _more_ apologies when I had the chance, and headed towards the boy's bathroom.

They'd probably forgive me. They usually did.

Grabbing a stall, I relaxed against the door, holding it shut until I was gone. I searched through my jumbled thoughts for the cool, weightless feeling in my mind that was Phantom. In the span of a thought, my body tingled and the feel of gravity vanished.

I vanished through the ceiling of Casper High and into the afternoon sky. Sam and Tucker were lounging in the shade of the tree outside the doors, just like I'd figured. Sam glanced up and spotted me, her hand coming up in a wave, but I turned around and flew in the other direction. Sorry, Sam, but I really, really needed to think…

Part of the territory of being half-ghost was the ability to pick up on the randomly paranormal. After more than a year of reacting to anything even vaguely supernatural, I've learned to look for things that normal people usually didn't stop to notice. There were things that had happened in that class beyond what Lancer had told me.

The humming and the sketching and the zoning, that was freaky… but there had to have been more to it than that. The temperature of the classroom had been frigid, much too cold to be a malfunctioning air conditioner. And then there were the lights. Three of the large, overhead lights closest to me were burnt out.

Normally, I wouldn't think anything of it. Our school had burnt out lights all the time, but I was sure that all the lights had been working at the beginning of class. They were all right over my head too.

Add the lights to the cold, and sprinkle in memories from the past week of blowing out dozens of light bulbs, frying computers (and one soda machine), and shivering in the cold… it wasn't a huge mental leap. Whatever this new power or ghost possession or whatever was – it was most likely involved. I was down to the question of what _it_ was.

"I wonder how much Sam and Tucker noticed." I did a few easy flips in the air, letting myself enjoy the feel of the wind blowing in my hair.

I finally dropped through the roof of FentonWorks and let myself change back into my human form. Dropping quietly onto my bed, I closed my eyes. There was no doubt this whole thing was centered around me. If only I could figure out how.

"Danny?" A knock on my door accompanied my sister's voice. How she always knows when I get home is a mystery I will never figure out.

"What?"

She pushed open the door and poked her head into my room. Shivering, she leaned against the door frame and watched the scowl form on my face. My room, this past week, has been about ten degrees colder than the rest of the house even when I'm not doing anything ghost related. It's annoying, not to mention dangerous. I didn't want my parents getting more clues as to my spectral identity than absolutely necessary. "Sam just called. She's said there's something you need to talk about." Jazz raised an eyebrow, calmly letting the 'Sam's pissed at you' statement hang in the air.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." I closed my eyes and let my head drop back onto my bed.

I listened as my sister flicked the light switch a few times and made a confused sound when nothing happened. I'd fizzled every single light bulb in my room more than once over the past week and I was sick of replacing them, so they were just staying broken. "Danny," she said as her weight dropped onto my bed, "I'm here for you if you want to talk."

"I don't want to."

"It's usually better to have things out in the open. Maybe I can help."

A sigh slid out of me and my eyes opened to gaze at her. Light bulbs, notebooks, temperatures, computers, ghosts, Vlad, Sam… it all swirled through my mind. I had no idea how I was ever going to be able to put it into words. "I just want to think for awhile. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright Danny," she said quietly, "I'll be in my room if you want me."

The door clicked softly behind her and I groaned. "Excellent," I breathed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. The flying thing hadn't really helped, and the sitting and brooding was _definitely_ not helping. I needed another plan.

Digging around under my bed, I grabbed a Fenton Thermos and changed back into ghost mode. A few hours of patrol, beating some of the lesser ghosts senseless might help. It wouldn't help my situation any, but it might help my pounding head. "Hello, misplaced aggression."

* * *

Deep in the darkness of Plasmius' lair, Vlad Masters picked up the equipment he had been forced to drag around. He brushed past the gray girl, who seemed content to float wherever she was the most in the way and could, apparently, do nothing else to help him. Begging, cajoling, and even direct orders were ignored or given excuses for. It was getting increasingly hard to imagine _this _ghost being the most powerful being in the Ghost Zone.

"Would you float somewhere else?" he finally snapped.

"Yes, master," she whispered, drifting over to a different section of the lab. She just continued to watch him with her red, soulless eyes.

It was over an hour before he spoke again. "Here," he grumbled. In his hand was a small vial of glowing liquid that he'd finished making. "Make sure this gets dumped on young Daniel when he is in his ghost form. It's crucial to phase two of the plan. You can do that much, right?"

"Yes, master." The gray ghost picked up the vial. In her hand, it twisted its shape, turning from a glass vial into a card. She gazed at the beautiful picture. A man trying unsuccessfully to carry a load of ten large sticks up a hill. "The Ten of Wands," she whispered. "How appropriate."


	3. The Fool

I'd been on patrol for less than an hour when I ran into _her_.

I froze in mid-air, staring at the gray-colored girl before me, my mouth dropping open. The ghost had gray hair that hung in dirty dreadlocks, a skin-tight gray shirt and pants, and an oversized, ragged, gray jacket. The jacket fell almost to her knees and the sleeves went well past her fingertips. Below the tattered hem of her jacket, her form melted into mist. Her eyes were a glinting, possessed red.

She looked _exactly_ like the girl I'd drawn in my notebook. "What the…"

I watched in bizarre amazement as she stuffed a hand into one of her pockets and pulled out a small card. She examined it with a small smile before turning it around and showing it to me. The card was carefully painted in beautiful colors, glowing like a stained-glass window with the sun shining through. On the card was a man, struggling to carry a load of large, glowing green sticks.

Licking my lips, I couldn't figure out what to say. I was completely floored. I'd drawn this ghost – _exactly_ – never having seen her before. It was my drawing come to life.

"Ten of Wands," the girl suddenly said, looking me right in the eyes. I blinked, not so much confused that this apparition from my notebook could talk, but just confused as to what she meant. I deal with a lot of really weird stuff on a pretty normal basis. A talking, three-dimensional doodle wasn't anything big.

"Overextending oneself, burdens, _struggle_," she continued, emphasizing the last word with a raised eyebrow. She held out the card, obviously wanting me to take it from her.

My mind never registered that taking an object from a ghost I'd never met was a bad idea. I was still struggling with the fact that she existed _at all_. As soon as my fingers touched the spectral card, it dissolved into mist that floated away from her hands and drifted in the air around us for a moment. I coughed at the acrid smell and waved my hand in the air. "What's that?" I sneezed, backing away from her.

The girl sighed, her red eyes fading for a moment into a deep gray. She rummaged around in her pockets and pulled out another card, staring down at it. "Five of cups," she whispered to herself, glancing up into my eyes. "Loss, bereavement, _regret_." She held out the card, showing a dark figure staring down at a few glowing cups of spilled water, and waited for me to take it.

I stared at her for a few more seconds as her eyes flickered back to red. There was no way I was going to take _another_ card after the first one had dissolved and was doing who-knows-what to my lungs. "Who are you?"

Suddenly she moved, her figure seeming to vanish from one spot and reappear in another. She snatched my wrist and wrenched open my fingers, placing the card in them and smiling at me. Then her form softened and she vanished like mist on a hot summer's day.

"Okay… that was weird." I stared down at the card that had been forced into my fingers. The black-cloaked figure seemed to glow in the evening sky.

Somehow… that had felt like an apology.

* * *

I ended up at Sam's house about two hours later after a pit-stop back at my house, my mind whirling with everything that had happened that day. I hesitated outside of her room, completely invisible, debating with myself over what I was doing at _Sam's_ house at nearly nine o'clock.

I needed to talk to _someone._ I was completely creeped out over everything that had happened today and meeting the girl out of my notebook had been a little scary to say the least. Somehow, the strange things that had been happening to me, what went on in class, and that ghost were connected. But I couldn't figure out how.

I couldn't really talk to Jazz since she'd psychoanalyze me a little too much and didn't know enough about ghosts yet to be really helpful. I _could_ talk to Tucker, he'd probably get the answer the fastest and come up with a solution… but he wasn't really helpful either. I was tense and nervous and anxious. There was only one person in the world that could solve _that_ problem _and_ help me figure out what was going on.

The only problem was that I wasn't sure I could be in the same room with Sam and not trip over myself. I _liked_ liked Sam – I had for awhile – but there was no way I was ever going to let her know. Having Tucker around helped a lot. We could just be _friends_ then. Just me and Sam together… in the same room… I took a deep breath, pushed myself back into the visible realm, and finally knocked on her window.

Just be calm, Fenton. You can handle being in the same room with your best friend. Alone. In her bedroom.

I groaned and shook my head to clear my thoughts, glancing through the window. Sam was sitting on her bed, a thick book in her hands, her fingers tangled in her hair. She glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow and silently nodding that I could come in. Sliding through the window, I landed lightly on the ground. How was I going to say everything (well, almost everything) that was going through my head?

"How was your walk home?" she asked, her voice extremely pleasant.

I winced, my mind jumping gears as I remembered that I'd left Sam and Tucker at school without any sort of explanation and she was probably really mad at me right now. "Um…" My mouth went dry as I tried to figure out what kind of apology would work best.

She pushed a piece of loose, black hair behind one of her ears and dropped her hand back into her lap. I followed her fingers before snapping my eyes back up to hers. They were a blazing violet in the dim light, ringed with red.

"I needed some time to think." I played with the object I'd picked up from my room while I waited for her answer.

The silence coming off of her was painful. The last thing in the world I wanted was for Sam to be mad at me. "And…" she drawled.

"And it didn't help." I took a small step forwards, trying for a small smile. "Look. I'm sorry for ditching you at school, but something really weird is going on and I needed to sort it out."

"And since you _can't_," she said, her voice still pleasant, but she snapped her book closed angrily on the _can't_, "you came running back to your _friends_."

I shook my head helplessly, searching for words. I'd never been very eloquent, but lately being around Sam made all the words fall out of my mind. "No, that's not it."

Her book came up and she hugged it to her chest, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, it's that you can't _trust_ your _friends_ when you have a problem?"

I took a step backwards at the vehemence in her cracking voice. Had she been crying earlier? Was that why here eyes were all red and her voice was so raspy? "No, Sam, listen…" I trailed off, mouthing wordlessly. I didn't want her to cry, I didn't want her to be mad at me. I wanted to go and give her a hug, but I couldn't… not and still be friends…

"I'm sorry. Perhaps it's that you don't think your _friends care_." She turned away from me and strode over to the bookshelf, carefully setting the book back on the shelf before turning back and storming up to me. Her body swayed as she walked, her hair falling back down into her face, the soft light shimmering on her pale skin. "Perhaps you think…"

"I _can't_ think," I snapped back, freezing energy crackling into existence around me. It was the same feeling from the movie theater, disconnected and immense. Every light bulb in the room popped and went out, the room falling into a frozen darkness, lit only by the streetlight outside and by the glow of my ghost form.

Silence fell for a few minutes, as I stared at her in the dark. I didn't feel like I had any sort of control over this weird energy that was flowing around the room. It was like it wasn't mine… but yet it was so hard to doubt that it had come from me. But this was the first time that I could connect it with something like I could my other powers. I'd definitely been feeling something when that energy had sprung into existence.

"Danny?" she finally whispered, her breath fogging in the air.

And just like that, the cold vanished. "Sorry," I breathed, "but that's what I was _trying_ to say. I needed time to figure out what was going on." I held out my hand, calling a few stray bits of energy to my palm and creating a glowing ball. Ice swirled and formed a simple cage around the small light, keeping the energy contained. Sam's eyes glittered in the greenish light and I twisted it around to set it on her desk and take a deep breath. "Too many weird things are happening all at once and I need your help to figure them out."

She was still looking at me when I turned back around. "Why didn't you want to let us help you at first?" she asked softly.

"I don't want to rely on you guys totally. You're the best, but you have your own lives too. I can figure out some of my problems." I met her eyes and smiled, enjoying the way the flickering green light played on her features. "The small problems. When they get to be big ones I know I need help from those smarter than me." I waited a beat, then added, "We square?"

A half-smiled formed on her face and she relaxed, glancing around her room with a raised eyebrow. "Jerk. You killed all my light bulbs. And I had the expensive environmentally friendly kind, too."

"You have no idea how many lights I've destroyed this week." I sighed, stooped to pick up the notebook that had dropped out of my fingers, and dropped onto her bed. She joined me, reaching over to grab the notebook out of my hand with a curious look, ignoring the cold aura that always surrounded me when I was in ghost mode.

"Your notebook." She opened it and paged past my scribbled notes and horrible doodles. "What were you doing in class anyway? The humming was driving me up the wall."

"I don't know." My voice was quiet, frustration leaking through. "I don't remember humming, or anything else for that matter. I barely remember school." She shot me a look and I shook my head, flipping through the pages until I found the picture I'd drawn today and tapping the page. "I drew this."

She stared down at in amazement for a moment before her eyes jumped up to meet mine. "Wow. This is really good! I didn't know you could draw."

"I can't," I said, shaking my head, "and the weirdest part is that I ran into this ghost after school today."

"So? You run into ghosts all the time. It's not that big a deal that you're drawing them."

I thumped the page with my hand. "I ran into this _exact_ ghost after school today even though I've never seen her _before_ that."

Her mouth dropped open as realization dawned. "You drew… but… how is that possible?"

"I don't have a clue." I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around my knees. "It's got something to do with the sketching, and the cold, and the light bulbs, and _her_, and the fact that I'm zoning out at random times. I _know_ they're connected."

"You froze the classroom and killed a bunch of lights today."

I bit my lip, shaking my head. "I wasn't sure if anybody else would catch that."

"Are you nuts?" She shot me a look. "Half the class figured you were possessed by some evil spirit. Tucker actually sprained his brain trying to talk them out of calling your parents to get you looked at."

"What?"

"You totally fit the bill for possession, I'll tell you that. And the fact that we couldn't get you to stop that annoying humming. _I_ almost agreed with _Paulina _that we needed to call your parents. You know how weird it was if I was agreeing with _her._"

I stared down at the picture of the notebook. "Wow…"

Sam shivered, peering closely at the drawing. "What is this thing in her hand?"

"I don't know, some kind of card."

Sam's shivering was growing. Even though she didn't say anything, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the ghost in the room was making her cold. I closed my eyes, searching for that bit of my mind that was warm and heavy. I reached out for it, tipping my head to the side and grinning when the tingle swept over me and I was back to human.

"_Geeze!_" I yelped, shivering at the intense cold of the room. I snatched her thick comforter and threw it around our shoulders, huddling under its warmth. "Why didn't you say something? It's freezing!" Quietly I made a mental note to not be… in… ghost… Her bare arm brushed against mine and very suddenly I was intensely aware how of just how close I was sitting to Sam.

I could smell the shampoo of her hair and the vague remains of that strawberry-scented body spray, I could feel the warmth of her body, and if I leaned just a little closer I bet I could hear her heart beating. All thought was suspended in my head for that moment.

I watched her smile, entranced by the glowing light flickering on her face. "That was enough light, but it was gone too quickly." She stood up, leaving me alone in the comforter as I struggled to keep from grabbing her and yanking her back next to me. That would most definitely _not_ be the best way to keep her as a friend. She'd probably scream and run.

Sam held the picture by the ecto-lantern and squinted. "Is that a man carrying sticks?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice thick. I coughed softly. "She gave me that exact card this afternoon, but it melted when it left her hand. She called it a 'ten' or something." I hesitated, my mind finally beginning to fire correctly. "She gave me this one too," I mumbled after a moment and dug through my pockets, coming up with the creased card. I held it up and Sam grabbed it, her warm fingers brushing mine.

"This is a tarot card!"

"Tarot?" I repeated. "What's tarot?"

"This is the Five of Cups," she glanced up at me, her violet eyes sparkling, "and the one in your drawing has got to be the Ten of Wands." She dropped the notebook onto her desk and ran her fingers over the book collection, mumbling to herself. "It's here somewhere… yes!" She grabbed the book and started to bring it back to the bed when she stopped suddenly, staring at me.

"What?" I felt insanely nervous, wondering if I had something on my face, trying desperately to figure out why she was staring at _me_.

"Your hair," she breathed, the book falling out of her fingers with a loud _thump_. "It's still white."

"What?" I leapt off of the bed and stared into the mirror. My hair was still as snow white as it was when I was in ghost mode. The only thing that had changed was that it didn't have that ephemeral glow that it usually had. I had human-white hair.

"Sammykins?" Sam's mother's voice came from right outside the door and I flinched. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" Sam called, unable to take her eyes off of me. "I just dropped a book."

"Are you sure, Sammy?" The doorknob started to twist and I vanished, turning myself back into ghost mode from the safety of invisibility before the door was even cracked.

I drifted over, fighting with myself to keep from brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Night Sam," I whispered into her ear, grabbing the ecto-lantern and vanishing into the night.

I had a lot to think about.

* * *

On the short list of positive things that had happened to me today, my hair was black when I got home and turned human. I sighed, sinking onto my bed. "Maybe it was just a one-time thing," I muttered to myself before shaking my head in disgust. I'm never that lucky and saying it aloud was just jinxing myself.

I shivered. My room was cold and dark – oppressively haunting. It actually _fit_ for what a ghost lair would look like. The fact that it was lit only by the eerie green glow of the ecto-lantern still in my hand only added to the haunted house feeling.

Trying to ignore the deep shadows in the corners, I stared down at the small ecto-lantern. It really was a pretty cool idea to combine ice and ectoplasm like that. The natural cold of the ectoplasm kept the ice from melting too quickly and the ice kept the brightly glowing ectoplasm from dispersing. It was starting to lose some of its brilliance, but it'd probably still be glowing in the morning when I woke up for school.

Setting it onto my desk, I kicked my shoes off and leaned back against the headboard of my bed with a yawn. I really should get some sleep tonight, that way I could try to tackle all of my problems in the morning. All of them but one. I really did need to get over this crush I had on Sam… but that one could wait.

I grinned sleepily, staring up at the glowing stars on my ceiling and letting my mind drift. A few more days of feeling the way I did around Sam really wouldn't hurt anyone. It felt nice.

* * *

It felt like I had just closed my eyes when my alarm clock went off. The song on the radio blazed through the room and I grumbled, burying my head deeper into my pillow. I'd been having an absolutely wonderful dream involving Sam and some strawberries. Why was it that my computer, my game station, _and_ my calculator all fried days ago but my stupid alarm clock never failed to go off in the morning?

I finally moaned and pushed myself up out of bed far enough to hit the button to silence it. Grabbing a pile of almost-clean clothes off the floor (I knew there was a good reason for why I hadn't cleaned yet), I staggered down the hall, grinning with delight when I beat Jazz to the bathroom for once.

I yawned, stretching, and flicked on the lights, blinking at the blinding brightness. When the spots all cleared, I stared at the mirror, suddenly and completely awake. My hair was white.

"Crud!" I slammed my eyes shut and focused on turning my hair black, sneaking a peak after a moment and sighing when my hair was back to normal. "What's going on?" I stared at my reflection for a few moments, tipping my head this way and that to make sure I'd gotten all the white. "And why?"

I washed my face as quickly as I could, dripping more water onto the countertop than usual, knowing Jazz would be banging on the door any second. I reached out for the towel to dry my face, but instead my finger drifted down to the drops of water glistening on the surface. Sounds died away around me, my vision narrowing so that I was only seeing the sparkles of light on the water. I pushed my finger through one of the droplets and watched as it formed a small line of water on the counter.

Another drop, another line. Over and over I pushed the water around, quickly forming a picture out of the gleaming water: a guy, sitting under a tree, with a cup of water being handed to him. The water was drying almost as fast as I could draw, but I really didn't care. I just kept moving my finger. I needed to finish it, I was almost done. The fact that the water was freezing into ice was helping. Just a few more lines and I would be able to see it…

"_Danny!_" My sister rapped loudly on the door, and I jumped, my focus broken. "I'm going to be late for school if you don't hurry up!"

I shivered at the intense cold that had permeated the bathroom, grimacing as my feet stuck to the floor when I tried to pull them up. Both of the lights had burst had some point, throwing the room into shadows that were only broken by the rising sun. Ice had formed around the edges of the mirror and the small pool of water in the sink had frozen into a solid block of ice.

"I… I just got in here," I said, stumbling for an answer.

"Don't be stupid. You've been in there for over a half-hour." She banged once more on the door. "You've got five minutes before I pick the lock and drag you out with the Fenton Fisher."

I blinked at the door for a few heartbeats. "I'll be… right out."

"Right," she drawled, storming away.

After staring down at the icy picture I'd drawn on the counter for a moment, watching my breath plume in the rapidly warming air, I glanced up.

My white-haired, blue-eyed self gazed straight back at me.

* * *

I made it through breakfast without any real problems, ignoring the looks and the questions my parents sent my way. Apparently I was looking 'freaked'. My dad asked me eighteen times over one bowl of cereal if I'd seen a ghost that morning. I couldn't decide how to answer that.

By 7:30, I was wandering into Sam's kitchen to walk her to school. This was an age-old custom that I'd let die a while ago and really needed to start up again. I just wasn't sure about being in the same room with her alone. Last night had gone okay though… except for that comforter thing.

"Hi, Sam," I said, grinning when I found her at the table, chewing on something that looked like a granola bar, her face buried in a book. She didn't look up. I waited, tipping my head to the side, watching a lock of her hair flutter as she breathed.

"Hi, Danny," Tucker said from one of the other chairs after a few seconds and I flushed, yanking my eyes away from her. He grinned at my expression and kicked out one of the chairs next to him. "And, after seeing that this morning to brighten my day, all is forgiven for ditching me yesterday."

I grabbed the chair and sank into it, throwing confused glances between the two. "No offense, Tuck, but what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to watch to stare in love-sick awe at Sam," he muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

I buried my head in my hands and groaned. Just what I needed, more fuel for the already embarrassing and torturous 'lovebirds' commentary on top of everything else.

With a laugh, Tucker continued a bit louder, "That, and Sam called. She said she had something to show us." He knocked on the table. "Earth to Sam, I did that research on Tarot cards you asked for."

Sam didn't look up, so Tucker turned to me and rolled his eyes. "I looked up that Tarot card the girl gave you last night."

"Sam told you about it?" I felt a strange rumble of jealousy that Sam had called Tucker rather than me, but I stomped down on it.

"At three in the freaking morning." He yawned, pulling his PDA out of his pocket and clicking through a few files. "Here. The Five of Cups is a minor arcana card in Tarot desk. This card can mean many things, but it usually stands for either the physical possibility of loosing something or the emotions that come with it, such as sorrow, regret, or denial. The loss could be something tangible, like money or a possession, or intangible, like a dream or an opportunity."

"When she gave it to me, it had sounded a lot like an apology."

"Maybe you're going to loose something and she felt sorry for you." Tucker looked up at me, a grin in his eye. "Maybe you're going to loose your _girlfriend_."

Sam's fist wiped out and smacked him arm. "Drop it, techno-geek."

Tucker rubbed his arm. "Ow… So now you listen to me. What are you reading anyway?"

"This." She turned the book around, showing us a picture of a very familiar looking gray ghost. "I've been reading the stuff about her. Basically it says that she's a Tarot ghost – she communicates through Tarot cards. Some people think she can see into the future, and maybe even influence it. Legend says that what she reads in her cards _always_ comes to pass. Whether she can merely _read_ the future or if she's actually _creating_ the future is up for debate."

"That's creepy," Tucker muttered.

Sam glanced at him, raised an eyebrow, but then ignored him and kept talking. "The book says that she's probably a remnant of an ancient class of ghosts – really, really powerful ones – and that she's hardly ever seen. The last time she appeared was about 1400 AD or so. The people she appeared before are supposedly responsible for reintroducing the Tarot deck to humanity. The humans claimed that they were drawing the cards in their sleep while she was around, almost like they were possessed."

I sat up a little straighter, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"Dude," Tucker said softly, "that sounds familiar. Right out of class yesterday."

"And this morning," I added softly, grabbing the book and staring into the expressionless eyes of the drawing. They drilled into the back of my head, staring at me, daring me to figure her out. "They felt like they were possessed…" I closed my eyes and sat the book down. This strange energy that broke light bulbs and frozen everything never felt like it was _mine._

Was I right with my half-hearted guess that I was being possessed? Was this gray ghost doing it?

"We need to get to school," Tucker pushed his chair out, "Danny can't afford another detention." He hesitated before grabbing his bag, tipping his head to the side and staring at me. "Um… Danny… not that personal choice isn't a cool thing and all, and you really can look however you want, but why did your hair just turn white?"

I reached up and yanked on my bangs in an attempt to see them, but then just sighed and focused on getting my hair back to black. "That's the third time it's done that today. Put it on my list of things I need to figure out really soon."

Tucker nodded and snatched his pack. "Do me a favor though, okay best buddy? Stay away from the pencils and notebooks. Yesterday was plain creepy."

With a small chuckle, I nodded, holding the door open for Sam to walk by. But rather than spending the walk to school trying to figure out what was wrong (like Sam and Tucker were doing), I endlessly debated if I should try to hold Sam's hand or carry her books for her.

I ended up doing neither.

* * *

By the time Tucker slid into his seat next to me for our last period – English with Mr. Lancer – I was in a dazed fog. My hair was now turning white whenever I wasn't actively focusing on keeping it black. I was pretty sure I'd kept most people from noticing the quick color changes, but I was getting some extremely strange looks. My head was starting to hurt on top of everything else.

Sam hurried into the room, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw us, and I lost control over my hair _again_. I quickly concentrated, my hair flickering back to normal just as Lancer walked into the door and eyed me. He seemed to hesitate for a second, something akin to concern flickering in his eyes before heading to his desk to take roll.

"Danny, you look horrible," Sam whispered when she dropped into her seat and plopped my notebook on my desk. "You left this at my house."

"Thanks," I whispered, settling back in the chair and trying to ignore my growing headache. What I really wanted to do was go hide in a dark corner and take a nap. My eyes were stinging.

"We're almost done," Tucker said encouragingly as Lancer started calling names. "One more class and you can go home."

I shot him a look. I didn't want to talk right now and listening wasn't much of a better option.

"On the positive side," he continued, apparently unaware of my glare, "You haven't started doodling and breaking light bulbs yet and no ghosts are attacking."

I sighed and dropped my head onto the table, only lifting my head briefly when Lancer called my name for attendance.

"Welcome, once again, to English. Today we will be continuing our study into medieval poetry. Can anybody tell me about the poem we read yesterday?"

I left my head buried in my arms as Lancer droned away in the front of the classroom. My eyes drifted closed after just a few minutes, a part of my mind focused on trying to keep my hair black. The rest of my mind was free to wander. Mostly though, that half of my brain played through various completely illogical ways of getting Sam to kiss me.

I _really_ needed to get over my crush before I did something I was going to regret.

"Mr. Fenton!"

I jumped with a yelp at the voice that boomed in my ear. I stared up into the unblinking eyes of Mr. Lancer for a few heart-pounding seconds before glancing around the room. Several of the lights over my head were out and the room held a distinctly ghostly chill. I sighed, shaking my head when I finally noticed that the classroom was empty of everyone but the teacher and I.

"Sam and Tucker are waiting for you outside," Lancer said when he caught me glancing over at their desks. "I sent them off since I wanted to talk to you alone. Also, they told me to tell you that if you 'ditch' them again, they'll never forgive you." He raised an eyebrow at this, a small smile appearing on his face.

I rubbed my hands over my face. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked.

"Have you decided?" he asked, sitting down at a desk next to me. "Are we going to talk about what's wrong or should I make an appointment for you."

"I'm fine," I said sourly. In all the confusion, I had forgotten all about Lancer talking to me yesterday. Now I wasn't ready for this talk.

"No, not acceptable," he shook his head. "You've been asleep since you walked in here. And you look like something the cat dragged in."

"Sorry," I mumbled and dragged myself out of my desk to grab my stuff. "I'll just make an appointment…"

"Danny." Mr. Lancer's voice had a very strange note to it.

I twisted around. He was staring at me with an odd look in his eyes, confusion and doubt and a small stirring of understanding. "What?" I asked, my fingers curled around the strap of my bag. My stomach was twisting and churning as he just continued to stare at me.

"Your hair…" he whispered. A surprised look of awe was crossing his face.

"My…" Crud! I grabbed my pack and backpedaled away from my teacher. I babbled a string of words that made no sense, even to me, and raced out the door.

I made it to the bathroom without anybody noticing me and skidded to a stop before the dirty mirrors. Panting, I stared into my reflection. My own blue eyes gazed back at me, but my hair was no longer the jet black I was used to. I ran my hands through my hair, whimpering slightly.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus, but Lancer's face kept popping into my mind. _The look of comprehension and wonder as he stared at me._ I opened my eyes, stared at my white hair and snapped my eyes back shot, trying to concentrate. _The small smile that had been growing on his face. _I stifled a scream, my eyes flashing a bright green. What does he know?

"Sam would know what to do," I breathed, closing my eyes and trying to picture her face, trying to calm down. In my mind, she smiled at me and waved, reached a hand over to touch mine. Overhead, all the lights popped and went out and the mirror I'd been staring into suddenly cracked like I'd just punched it.

I backed away from the mirror unsteadily, my eyes wide, and tripped over the backpack that I'd unceremoniously dumped onto the floor earlier. I collapsed into a corner of the bathroom, wrapped my arms around my knees, and buried my face into my arms. "What's happening to me?"

* * *

Miles away, deep in the darkened corners of a lab, Plasmius floated waiting. He didn't have to wait long. The gray ghost appeared in a swirl of gray mist. "Did you do it? Is it done?"

The girl nodded, her expressionless eyes staring at Plasmius. "The virus is implanted." She blinked once, a blank smile crossing her face. "He does not know what I did."

"Ha! Perfect." He rubbed his hands together. "Young Daniel will have no idea what is happening to him. The virus will keep him busy long enough to keep him out of my hair while the rest of my plan falls into place. We can start phase three." He smiled to himself before turning to the girl. "Leave! I'll call for you if I need you."

The girl nodded once. "As you wish, of course." Her form dissolved into mist, her soulless eyes being the last to disintegrate. She reformed a few minutes later in a cave overlooking a bright blue lake.

Reaching into the folds of her gray, oversized jacket, she pulled out just one of her Tarot cards. Flipping it over, she stared at it. Stylized in vivid colors and enhanced by ectoplasm, she stared at a skeletal black knight, sitting astride a horse. "Death," she whispered. _Ending. Elimination. Inescapable forces. Transition._

The smile that flickered across her face was chilling.


	4. The Five of Swords

I ditched Sam and Tucker. Again.

Pushing open the front door of our house, I slipped invisibly into its quiet recesses. Beyond the buzzing of that annoying neon sign, the place seemed dead. "Mom? Dad?" I hesitated for a few seconds, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

On the positive side, no ghost alarms were going off and no guns were sprouting from walls to shoot at me for entering my own house. With this being the Fenton household and me being a ghost with powers that were being all goofy… it had been a distinct possibility. "Thank you for small miracles." I let my invisibility fade.

I walked into the kitchen, snatching a note off the fridge. "Danny," I read with a small smile, "gone to fight ghosts. Leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry. Jazz has her cell if you need something and make sure to turn on the ghost shield when you get home! We'll be back around six with supper. Love you – Mom and Dad."

My grin grew with the knowledge that I was home alone. I now had time to myself to figure out what was going on. Racing up the stairs and dropping my backpack unceremoniously on my bed, I headed for the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and glared at my reflection.

White hair.

Ten minutes later, I sank down onto the edge of the bathtub with a groan. My head hurt from trying to concentrate on turning my hair back to black and I was ready to admit that my hair might just be white forever. Using my own mind and focus to keep my hair looking 'human' was going to be a lost cause. There was no way I could keep up that level of concentration and hope to act anything like normal.

I rubbed my face, massaging my temples a little bit to get rid of the beginnings of a lasting headache. The main problem with walking around with white hair is that it would bring up a million questions. That, and I looked a _lot_ like my ghostly alter-ego. White hair was just not going to work. "What am I going to do?"

Finally, I pushed myself to my feet and drifted back down the stairs. My parents wouldn't be home for another two hours and I needed some kind of solution. My growling stomach led me to the kitchen. "I can't think straight on an empty stomach." One peanut butter and jam sandwich later, I was perched on the kitchen counter, banging my heels into the cupboards.

"Any thoughts yet?" I asked the air. After a second of silence, broken only by the sound of my heels against the cabinet doors, I answered myself. "Nope."

I ran my tongue over my teeth and stared up at the ceiling, half-wishing that the answer could just be written up there. "White hair," I whispered, "and the options are… I guess I could just live with it and deal with the consequences if they come up." I made a face. _Not_ a good option – the consequences _would_ come up and they would be disastrous.

"Or I could just wear a hat for the rest of my life." I slipped off the counter and wandered upstairs, yanking open my closet and digging through the mess for the box I threw my hats into. "It's not a wonderful solution," I muttered darkly as I grabbed the only one that would cover all of my hair, "but it'll work for right now."

The phone rang and I straightened, hat in hand. "_Danny!_" Sam's voice screamed at me the second I picked it up. "_You ditched us… again! Give us one reason to…"_

"My hair is white," I interrupted, "and I think Lancer knows."

There was silence for a second. "_Knows what?_"

"About me… that I'm Phantom." I knew I was home alone, but I still glanced over my shoulder to make sure that nobody was around to hear my words.

"_Just because your hair is white? There are other kids in school with white hair."_

"People whose hair changes from black to white in the middle of a conversation?" Silence met my question. Leaning against the wall, I waited patiently for her to say something.

_"Stay. We'll be over in a few minutes."_ I could hear Sam cover the phone with her hand and say something to Tucker. "_We'll figure this out._"

Setting the phone down without saying goodbye, I dropped onto the couch to wait.

* * *

By four thirty that evening, I had black hair again. Sam sat back with a grin, studying her handiwork with a tilted head. I blushed and toweled off my wet hair, trying hard not to think about the fact that I'd had to take my shirt off.

"I am a genius," she chuckled, stripping off the plastic gloves that had come with the hair dye kit she'd purchased on her way over. "Of course, you've lost all your natural highlights, it's only temporary dye, and your hair looks…" she hesitated, "kind of gray rather than black. But it was the best dye we could find at the discount store."

"It's better than white," I muttered before standing up to study my reflection in the mirror. For a split-second, I could have sworn that green eyes had been staring back at me, but no. My eyes were blue. "Thanks, Sam."

"Just ignore me," Tucker said distantly as he tapped on his PDA, "I'm not here, I didn't help at _all_, and I have a new game to beat. No need to thank me."

Sam and I glanced over at him and then grinned at each other. I opened my mouth to spit out some kind of comeback but a chill settled onto my skin. I sighed, my breath pluming in the air.

"We won't be here when you get back," Sam simply shrugged, "call us if you need us."

Tucker glanced up and grinned at me as I yanked my shirt back over my head and transformed into ghost mode. I checked my reflection in the mirror, thankful that my hair had changed back to white despite the hair dye. "I'll give you guys a call tonight, okay?"

"Right," Sam drawled as I drifted off the floor, "you'll call us like you promised not to ditch us at school."

"I will," I stressed one last time before I flew through the ceiling and my friends vanished from view. Slipping through the air, searching for the ghost that had triggered my ghost sense, I made a mental note to be _sure_ to call them tonight.

* * *

The flying toaster was my first clue as to the identity of my 'guest'. "Technus," I groaned.

The toaster was quickly joined by various other small appliances that were floating out of the houses in the neighborhood. I dodged a vicious-looking curling iron and a blender before the weird conglomeration of possessed appliances took off down the street. I followed.

Hovering over his growing pile of technology about three blocks from my house, Technus was laughing and shouting. His powers were quickly taking the stolen appliances and forming them into a small army of robots. "Run, humans! For I am _Technus_, Master of All Things Technological, and I will rule your city with my army of appliance horrors!"

I drifted to a stop, watching the ranting, self-obsessed ghost and waiting for the various citizens of Amity Park to follow Technus's un-asked-for advice and vanish from the scene. I finally picked out a funky looking tiny robot that I was pretty sure contained the curling iron that had tried to brain me earlier. I sent a single ectoblast in its direction, scattering the forming robot back into pieces.

If nothing else, it got Technus to stop ranting and look at me. "Hey, Master of Annoying, mind if I disagree with your grand scheme?"

"Ghost-child! You will not foil my plans today! I, Technus, will destroy you with my upgraded appliance army!" The white-haired ghost raised his arms and the tiny hair-curler robot started to reform.

I shook my head sadly. "Why is it that all the annoying ghosts speak in exclamation points?" I wondered, shooting the tiny robot and sending the pieces back across the road. I did one last check of the area to make sure that the human populous had vanished. "It's seriously not a good day to bug me. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Actually…" Technus hesitated. I kept one of my eyes on the appliances that could become deceptively small robots and the other on the lookout for any encroaching ghost hunters. Technus, for the moment, wasn't worth watching. "I was supposed to give you a message."

Both eyes shot to meet his blank, screen-like eyes. "What…?" If this was some kind of trap – which I doubted – it would have been a good one. He had me completely focused on him for a few seconds.

"I was told to warn you-"

I snorted. "About your latest, greatest plan to take over the world?" Folding my arms, I went back to keeping a lookout for Valerie, my parents, tiny technological robots… birds… flying pigs… basically anything more dangerous than the techo-maniac floating in front of me.

"No, you… little… whipper-snapper." Technus fumed for a moment. "I'm trying to help!"

"Fine, fine," I muttered, not really paying attention to him. I was positive the ghost was going to go into a long-winded monologue about the great and powerful Technus. I already had plans set to simply suck him into my Thermos the next time he gave himself an appositive title. "What?"

"Do you remember the young man with the train? The one that could control ghosts with his crystal ball?" Technus waved his hand and a small computer floated up to hover next to him, Freakshow's face appearing in the static on the screen.

"Freakshow," I said darkly. "What about him, he's in jail."

"Not him," the screen changed to show the staff Freakshow had carried around during the Circus Gothica, "his crystal ball."

"Yeah?" I raised an eyebrow, wondering when this rather pointless conversation would devolve into ranting about taking over the world. It was _weird_ to be rationally chatting with a ghost like Technus. And the general lack of self-promoting exclamation points was enough out of character for him to have me on my toes. The inane thought that this might not really even _be_ Technus flitted through my head.

"I picked up the pieces of the crystal ball after it shattered. I used them in an invention to give me ultimate control over all the other ghosts!" Technus chortled for a moment, his eyes glinting in the light as he remembered his take over the world plans. "But then that other halfa stole it."

"You made something to control ghosts and you let Vlad steal it."

Technus nodded. "He's using it to control that gray girl. The card ghost."

I froze, my eyes widening. "The girl with the Tarot cards? The one from my drawings?" _Now_ he had my attention.

"I do not know of these drawings," he said, "but now that the ghost with the loud 'rock' music will get off my back, I – Technus, Master of all things Mechanical and Be…" His voice trailed off into a scream as I sucked him unceremoniously into my Thermos.

"And there was the annoying, self-promoting, appositive title." Screwing the lid carefully onto the top of the Thermos, I hovered in the air. Technus had left a mess of small appliances on the road that, no doubt, I'd be blamed for in some fashion. "'Ghost with the loud rock music'," I whispered, "Ember…"

"Why would she…" I just shook my head, letting the latest confusing wrinkle to this mess of a situation settle into my head. Leaving the junk in the streets for now, I headed home. Sam and Tucker would be able to help me figure this out.

I phased back through the wall into my bedroom and flipped back to human before I landed. Dropping lightly on the balls of my feet, I glanced over at the clock and noted that it was barely five. My parents wouldn't be home for another hour. "Excellent! Just enough time to drop the annoyance back into the Ghost Zone."

Reaching for the door knob, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and stopped dead. The Thermos fell out of my fingers and clunked on the floor. Storming over to the mirror, I glared at my reflection as a few choice words slipped out of my mouth.

My hair was white.

_Again._

* * *

The gray ghost swirled into existence, sitting on the floor of Vlad Plasmius's lab. "You rang?" she intoned, no expression crossing her face.

"I have a job for you." Vlad picked up the Plasmius Bender and pointed it at the girl, double checking to make sure it was set to its highest setting before pressing the button. The girl's red eyes unfocused and glowed with a bright red light. "I want you to go to Amity Park and test my young apprentice. Make sure he looses, but do not cause him any lasting harm."

The gray ghost bowed her head. "Yes, master. Whatever you say."

"And if that orange jump-suited idiot gets in the way and dies, I won't care."

She looked up at him, her red eyes glowing as she accepted his command. "Yes, master."

Vlad waved a hand at her. "Go, and return when you are finished."

Gray mist swirled up around the girl and the gray ghost was gone. Vlad relaxed slightly, closing his eyes.

"You shouldn't be messing around with one of the ancients, Plasmius." Skulker rumbled from a shadow, only now floating into view. "That is one of the most powerful ghosts to ever have existed."

Vlad snapped back at him. "I know!" He seethed for a few seconds. "I know what I'm doing, Skulker. Just get ready to do your part of the plan. Do you have your story ready? It's time to scare young Daniel."

"Scare?" Skulker mumbled as he followed Vlad deeper into the halfa's lair. "I'll just tell him the truth. If that doesn't scare him, nothing will."

* * *

I scowled darkly as I grabbed the hat off my bed and tugged it onto my head, tucking a few stray white hairs into the beret-style hat. The thing was ugly beyond any doubt – blue with black checks – but it would cover up all of my hair. My parents would be home soon and there was _no_ way they were going to find out I had white hair. "Thank you, Tucker," I breathed, adding a reminder to send Tucker a _Thanks for the Christmas Present_ card underneath the note to call Sam tonight before I went to sleep. The card would only be about four years late.

Examining myself in the mirror, I figured I looked as normal as could be expected for a kid with abnormal ghost powers, white hair, and an ugly monstrosity on my head. I picked up the dropped Thermos full of Technus and hid it under my bed. I sank onto my comforter with a sigh, burying my face in my hands. "What am I going to do?"

There was really only one thing that I knew for sure: this was all Vlad's fault. I now knew that the strange, powerful ghost was being controlled and sent after me. While I didn't know for _sure_ why the fruit-loop was doing this, I could be pretty sure it had to with either getting my mom, getting me, or taking over the world. Or, knowing Vlad, a demented combination of all three.

I crossed my legs and bit my lip, trying to think through everything that had been happening to me lately. I've never been stupid and these powers have really helped me with my 'figure things out' abilities. "That gray ghost is Vlad's little minion," I whispered. "But how about this new power? And the white hair thing?" I shook my head. "I haven't gotten blasted, zapped, or hit with any of my parents inventions and I haven't even bumped into Vlad or any of his flunkies lately…"

I trailed off, my eyes glittering at the thought. I _had_ bumped into Vlad's newest flunky and there was that strange gas that had all but forced itself down my throat. "Whatever that was, it has something to do with this." I sighed and flopped onto my back, turning the situation of a new power, white hair, and the powerful ghost over in my head. "What next, I wonder?"

Rolling onto my stomach, I reached for my cell phone to call Sam like I promised when that annoyingly familiar chill of an approaching ghost raced down my spine. I groaned and left my phone sitting on my desk, flipping silently into ghost mode. "This day keeps getting better and better."

I waited another few moments before reaching through the bed to grab the Technus-filled Thermos. I let my body rise off the soft bed and float out through the ceiling to locate the ghost. I saw her waiting for me in the air over my neighbor's house, legs crossed and eyes closed meditatively, gray mist billowing around her and cascading over the old brick building. The gray ghost girl; Vlad's latest servant.

Her eyes flickered open, glinting red in the afternoon light, studying me. "The Fool," she said as a ghost of a smile drifted across her face, her gaze fixed on the top of my head.

With a scowl, I reached up and noted that I still had that ugly hat on my head. "Why are you here?" I snapped as I ripped the offending hat off my head and dropped it onto the rooftop.

Slowly she straightened her legs and stretched before reaching into a pocket. She pulled out another Tarot card and held it up. The sun shone against the back of the card, setting the scene ablaze; five young men battling each other with long, glowing sticks. "Five of Wands," she commented, tucking the card back into one of her numerous pockets, "Disagreements, set backs, irritations, _competition_."

"Enough with the cards already," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

For a split second, another smile crossed her lips and the red in her eyes drained away. I blinked at her, floating backwards a few feet in surprise as she stared at me with her calm, gray eyes. "The Fool," she repeated with a simple shake of her head. "_Unlimited potential_."

"What?" I was totally confused. What was this girl talking about? Reaching behind me, I fingered the end of the Fenton Thermos that was hanging across my back. I wondered if the Thermos would be strong enough to hold her… if I'd be able to catch her by surprise and even get her into the thing since Technus was already in there. Surprise seemed like the only way I'd be able to beat her; a long, drug-out fight wouldn't end with me winning anything.

I blinked when her eyes suddenly flipped back to a gleaming red, her small smile transforming into something slightly evil. She raised one of her hands, long coat sleeves dangling beyond her fingers, and a wave of gray mist flowed up and around her. Backing up a little more, I watched as she shook her arm to free her clenched fingers from the confining sleeve. Then, with an unreadable expression on her face, she opened her fist.

The mist attacked. It flooded around her like a tidal wave of power, slamming into me and throwing me backwards through the air. I gasped in pain when my back connected hard with the wall of the Ops Center – the Thermos still between me and the wall. Blinking tears of pain out of my eyes, I whispered a quiet thanks to the fact that ghosts are lacking in spinal cords and pushed myself back away from the wall. Twisting around, I pulled a handful of energized ectoplasm out of the air and threw it in her direction.

She didn't even bother to move. My attack went straight through her. The next two blasts did similar _nothing_.

I collected a fourth blast of ectoenergy but held it, glowing, in my hands as I studied her and waited for inspiration to strike. How was I going to beat her if I couldn't hit her?

The ghost's hand was still raised, her fingers outspread. She was staring at me with a bizarre look on her face and confusion in her gray eyes. Tipping her head to the side, she slowly lowered her hand and waited, eyes narrowing in thought.

After an interminable moment of silence as we hung in the air over separate roofs, she attacked again. Her hand flew towards me, palm outstretched, and a section of the gray mist snaked around her and lashed out towards me like a snake strike. I dodged the first attack, my own ectoblast disintegrating as I moved, but it was no use. The mist swirled around me and coiled like an impossibly huge boa constrictor. I was trapped… and it was starting to constrict and squeeze.

"Let go," I whispered as the agony of being squeezed started to eat into my mind. I struggled helplessly, unable to move more than my head back and forth. By this point, my whole body from my neck down was totally wrapped in the winding gray mist. "Let go of me!" The crushing, all-over pressure hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before. "Let GO!" I yelled, feeling my eyes burn.

Deep inside of me, the energy inherent inside of every ghost reacted. Cool, green mist-like sparkles of unconscious power raced over my screaming form as it desperately tried to keep me 'alive'. That's when I felt it… ever so slightly. Where ever the green energy touched, the gray mist of the girl's power retreated.

It was my only chance.

I focused, ignoring the shrieking agony of my body as the gray mist continued to contract around me. I coiled the greenish energy around my mind. When I figured I couldn't stand the agonizing pressure for a moment longer, I released it, slashing outwards.

The gray mist vanished. I collapsed to the roof in pain, barely able to keep myself conscious. Agony flared through ever molecule of my body as I struggled to remain on my hand and knees. I knew all too well that the gray ghost was still there, hovering, watching. And that I was totally powerless to stop whatever she wanted to do to me.

_I thought so._

My head jerked up in surprise, causing my neck to scream at pain caused by the sudden movement.

_Do it again, child_.

I stared at the gray ghost that was floating so serenely over my neighbor's house. "Was that you?" I rasped. "That voice in my head…"

Her hand moved even as I was speaking, another flood of gray power leaving her and moving like an unstoppable tidal wave towards me. I couldn't do anything but wait for it to hit, eyes closing and curling into a ball as best as I could. Dashing into me like a brick wall, it tossed me through the air and over the edge of the building. I rolled, slamming into the ground just outside my mom's kitchen.

"Ouch," I mouthed, unable to move, my whole body aching. I was totally and completely outclassed. Three attacks, none of them even straining the Tarot ghost… and if I was going to be completely honest that third attack had been slightly unnecessary. I had been down and out after the second one.

Cool mist caressed my cheek and I forced myself to open my eyes. The girl was crouched over me, her soulless gray eyes studying me carefully.

"Why?" I managed to get out, trying (and failing) to push myself up into a sitting position. I knew that if she decided to finish me off, there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. I was just waiting for her to make a move.

She smiled slightly, a cool finger coming out to brush against my forehead. Energy flooded through me and I gasped, pain being wiped away by her touch. My arms still shaking – but no longer hurting – I sat up. She pulled another card out of her pocket, placed it gently in my lap, and dropped the black and blue checked hat onto the ground next to me.

Then she vanished, her strange gray mist dissipating in the warm evening sunlight.

I picked up the card and sighed. On the Tarot card, a man was stealing some glowing swords from behind the backs of some relaxing soldiers. "Okay," I muttered and pushed myself to my feet. "I'm still confused."

Flipping the card over in the vague hope that she'd written something on the back, I glanced over my shoulder. It was a creepy thought to know that a ghost _that_ strong could attack me anywhere and anytime she wanted.

And… then… heal me and make it like the whole thing never happened? I shook my head, not having a clue what to think about the whole situation.

"DANNY!" my father bellowed from inside the house, "Supper!"

Grabbing the hat and putting it back onto my head, I floated back up to my room to lose Technus and the Thermos. "Confused is a good word."

* * *

I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes closed and trying to get my nerves under control. My hand nervously touched my hat to check that my white hair was hidden carefully underneath it. "I can do this… I can do this…" My parents were generally clueless; they weren't going to figure anything out because of a hat.

"Danny!" my dad bellowed for the third time. "Mads won't let us eat until you get here!"

I sighed and opened my eyes. Slipping through the living room and sliding into my chair at the table, I tried my best to act casual. Nothing was wrong. There was nothing different about me today. Despite my mental mantra, I still felt myself relax when neither of my parents reached for a weapon.

"Sweetie?" Mom asked, handing me the bowl of salad, "why are you wearing a hat at the kitchen table?" She studied me for a second, biting her lip in thought.

"Um…" My stomach bunched up and I licked my lips before grabbing the bowl from her hands and nervously dishing myself some salad. I hate salad. "I'm trying something new?"

Jazz snorted, eyeing the overly large portion of salad I'd dropped onto my plate and taking the salad fro me. "A lack of fashion sense?" My foot flicked out and kicked her under the table.

"Oh," Mom said, still watching me as she sat down and poured some dressing onto her salad. Setting a smile onto my face, I tried to ignore the bead of sweat trickling down my back. Even after all this time, I was really bad at lying to my parents. Finally dragging my eyes away from my mom, I glanced over at Jazz, grabbed a piece of lettuce with my fingers, and popped it into my mouth.

"Danny," Jazz hissed, her eyes wide with shock.

"What?" I asked, chewing on the lettuce. I could feel the hat still perched securely on my head. She pointed to her eyes. I squinted, but I couldn't see anything wrong with them. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Danny?" Mom interrupted. I looked over at her. "Why are your eyes green?"


	5. The Knight of Swords

I stared at my mom in surprised disbelief, my mouth working silently. My eyes were green? My mind was working furiously, racing backwards to try and figure this out. My eyes… my hair… was I slowly turning into a ghost? "Um…"

"Daniel James Fenton," my mother whispered, a look of concern on her face. "Explain yourself right now."

"I… see… they… S-Sam… c-c-contacts!" A lie burst into my head suddenly and I licked my lips, preparing to throw myself at it whole-heartedly and then run like my life depended on it. It probably did. "See, Sam wants to make a movie about the ghost-boy and since I kinda look like him she wanted me to play him so she dyed my hair white and gave me some green contacts and I just forgot to take them out…" I trailed off, crossing my fingers that my rather clueless parents would just take the story without question.

"Where did she get _white_ hair dye?" Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shot her a glare, trying to convey 'I don't want to talk about it at the table' though my eyes. My sister rolled her eyes, but picked up her fork to continue eating.

My father snorted. "You don't look like the ghost-boy. He's evil!" He pounded the table with one fist, then grinned suddenly. "Let's see it."

"See what?" I whispered. My stomach dropped through the floor. I knew what he wanted to see.

"The hair, Danny!" he boomed excitedly. "I went through a phase where I put streaks of white into my hair, and I looked excellent."

Mom glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and a small smile flickered on her face before she turned back to me. "Come on, sweetie, it can't be that bad."

I slowly set my fork down, debating my options. If I really didn't want to, my parents would probably be nice about it and just let it go. There was always the small chance that they'd tackle me and pry it off my head no matter what I said, but I chose to not think about that one. I wrinkled my nose. I had told them my hair was dyed for a play. If that was true, I had no real reason to not show them. But I couldn't show them… I was too obviously 'Phantom' with white hair.

I was so busy with my own thoughts that I never noticed when my sister made her move. Jazz was usually really smart, but she had inherited her own share of the 'clueless' gene and it chose right now to rear its ugly head. "Yeah, Danny, it can't be that bad," she laughed. Then she reached up and knocked the hat from my head.

_Crap_. I stared down into my food and struggled to breathe normally. Let the fireworks begin.

Beside me, my sister froze and a small "Oh," worked out of her lips. _Now_ she understood. A few seconds too late.

"Danny…" my mother breathed. I glanced up at her through my impossibly white bangs, watching the connections fire in her head. My mother was day-dreamy, generally clueless, and ignorant of the real world, but she was far from stupid. I looked just like my alter-ego and she knew it.

I knew that running from the table was not going to help anything – it'd probably make it worse – but my mouth was moving almost against my will. "Can I be excused?" I swallowed heavily. "I need to call Sam and ask her a question about the… movie."

"No," she said softly, not taking her eyes off of me. "You need… I need… we…" she seemed to be struggling to come up with words to say. "Danny…"

My stomach clenched uncomfortably. She knew _something_. My hands were shaking so badly in my lap that the rest of me was probably shaking too. To make matters worse, that chilly feeling was growing inside of me again. Any second that strange, light bulb breaking power was going to resurface and I knew I wouldn't be able to control it. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to think of something that would get me out of this.

Something. _Anything_. I would have taken a giant asteroid destroying the planet over what was going to happen next. I would have gladly faced _that_ over my parents right at this moment.

Nothing. I shivered when the temperature of the table suddenly plummeted, my breath fogging in the air. My dad gave a start, hissing, "Ghost," under his breath as he grabbed his latest ecto-weapon and looked around. My sister hugged her arms to herself and carefully watched Dad search the room.

Mom was staring at _me_.

The light bulbs in the kitchen light suddenly burst, small pieces of glass cascading down onto the table and throwing the whole room into shadow. I flinched, wondering if my eyes were just green or if they were actually glowing.

Running away instantly became a really good option, if only my feet would move. He who fights and runs away, lives to think up a really good excuse to tell his family later that will get him out of this alive so that he can fight another day.

Finally my feet pushed against the floor and I slid out of my chair. "I need to… call…" I murmured, not bothering to try and finish my lie. It was probably pointless by now.

Exit fallen hero, stage right.

* * *

"Damn it, Skulker!" I snapped as I threw myself to the side to avoid his latest barrage of missiles. "I'm not in the mood today!"

"But I am, prey," he hissed. He raised an arm, another large-looking gun appearing and centering on me in the evening sky. Where does he _keep_ those things anyway? That arm must weight a ton with all those guns stuffed into it.

I might be in a horrible mood and facing impending doom at home, but if I've learned one thing over the past few years, it's how to multi-task. I still needed to figure out what Technus was muttering about and Skulker was an excellent person to ask... as long as he didn't skin me in the process. "You still working for the fruit-loop?"

"It shouldn't matter to you who my employer is," he said darkly and launched a fat missile in my direction. "You should focus on _me_."

My eyes widened when the missile tracked me as I tried to dodge it. All the normal tricks to get rid of Skulker's missiles didn't work – not the barrel rolls or the loops or even the trick of intangibly flying through a sign or a tree. The thing was dead-set on following me as I raced through the sky.

"You like my newest weapon?" Skulker gloated fondly as he watched me. "It was my payment for a small job I'm working on."

The missile was faster than me. It was inches from my toes when it suddenly exploded, a glowing net appearing out of the shrapnel and wrapping itself around me. I gasped, momentarily lost control over my power of flight, and tumbled to the ground. Thankfully it was just a few feet to fall.

Skulker's metal boots crunched loudly as he landed and walked up to where I was struggling against the thick netting. "Now, whelp, you are…"

The temperature suddenly dropped around us, ice crackling into existence on the grass and a few of the nearby trees exploding in the sudden, intense cold. I kicked up my level of struggling. I knew who was coming. It was just my luck that Skulker would trap me in a net just in time for _her_ to show up…

Wait a second.

I stopped my struggling for a moment, pieces falling into place. This wasn't a coincidence. That gray ghost was being forced to work for Vlad, Skulker was working for Vlad, whatever this was that was turning me into a ghost was probably from Vlad… "I _hate_ Vlad's complicated plots," I muttered, "I can never figure them out until it's too late."

As the gray ghost swirled into existence along with a bank of gray, freezing fog, Skulker knelt down beside me. When he spoke, his voice contained a note of real fear. "That is one of the most powerful ghosts to ever have existed. The stories say that she could destroy the world if she wanted. If you can't even beat _me_, you'll never defeat _her_."

I interrupted him when he paused to take a breath. "Stop the rehearsed monologue," I ground out, "and go tell your fruit-loop of an 'employer' to stop playing with things he shouldn't be trying to _control_." I wondered if Skulker would understand the emphasis I placed on that last word.

Skulker backpedaled a little bit in surprise. Yup, he understood. I pushed against the net as his jets started to fire and he lifted off the ground. "And tell him that I want the cure for whatever it is he gave me!" I snapped after him as he fled.

"The Fool," a soft voice whispered.

I twisted around and froze. The gray ghost was sitting on the ground about a foot away from me, her red eyes glinting in the evening shadows. "Hi," I managed to say.

She reached one gray hand towards me. I slithered away from her as best I could while trapped in Skulker's net, but she slid forwards and grabbed the net, undoing the knot and letting me free. Scrambling out of the net, I watched her warily. I hadn't forgotten that she could knock me senseless without even thinking about it.

Her red eyes flickered to gray for a moment as she reached into her pocket and pulled out another tarot card. "Eight of Wands," she said simply, showing me the creased and beaten-up card. Eight wooden staffs gleamed on the card, seeming to fly over a distant landscape.

I glanced around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Vlad was in control of her, wasn't he? Why wasn't she attacking me? Why was she just showing me more of these silly cards? "What does that mean?" I rasped.

After putting the card back into a pocket, she grinned at me and tipped her head to the side. Just for a second, she looked like nothing more than a harmless girl. "End of stagnation, activity, adventure, _proving oneself_."

"Meaning…" I got to my feet, tensing as her eyes shimmered back to possessed red.

She rose into the air with a fluid motion and threw herself at me, our little chat apparently over. I ducked, taking off into the air after she passed over me. There was no way I could beat this ghost on my own. I needed help.

* * *

Sam leaned back in her chair and glared up at the ceiling. Tucker was sitting on the floor and playing some stupid game on his PDA and Danny… was nowhere to be found. She had called the Fentons, but Jazz had just mumbled something about it not being a good time and hung up.

"What's up with him?" she asked sourly. "He's acting all weird."

"He's getting a new power," Tucker muttered, suddenly jerking his PDA to the side. "Move you stupid little blinking icon, _move_… and Danny always acts weird when he's getting a new power. Remember when he was learning to control his ice powers? He'll get over it. _YES!_ Ten points!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "What about his hair? _That's_ not normal. It's _white_. And I could have sworn his eyes were green before he left this afternoon. It's almost like he kept trying to turn into a ghost."

Setting down his PDA for a moment, Tucker looked up at his friend with a sigh. "He'll come tell us as soon as he can, I'm sure. You need to not worry so much; he can't in _that _much trouble."

She ground her teeth together. "How can you not care that he's just…" A loud beep from Tucker's PDA interrupted her. "What was that?" she asked.

Tucker actually blushed. "I've got some equipment to listen in on police chatter and to alert me whenever certain words come up. Like the word 'ghost'." He snatched the remote control off her desk and flipped on Sam's small TV, searching for the local news.

"There he is," Sam said, leaning closer, "and… that's the ghost he was drawing!"

"The ghost with the cards?"

"Yeah… should we go help?" Sam was already moving, grabbing a thermos and two small ecto-guns from under her bed.

Tucker stuck his PDA into his pocket and grabbed the offered weapon. "If we can catch him. He's really moving fast."

* * *

I made it _almost_ four blocks before the gray ghost caught up to me. She slammed into me, tossing me into the ground hard enough to crack the cement sidewalk. Groaning, I rolled over and staggered down the street, trying to keep an eye on the sky.

She hovered above me, her form surrounded by tentacles of a gray-colored fog that swirled down towards the ground and froze everything they touched. "The Fool," she laughed as she watched me stumble.

Taking to the sky again, I blew through town just a few feet off the ground. A small part of my mind was berating me for bringing this powerful ghost _towards_ a populated place, but the rest of me was too busy trying to survive this encounter. The quickest way to help was through town. Besides, she didn't seem interested in anyone but me.

An arm of mist poured down in front of me, side-swiping a fire hydrant and causing it to crack open with the sudden change of temperature. Water bubbled up for a fraction of a second before freezing into a bizarre tree-like shape. I swerved around it and flew into an alley, turning myself invisible and not even trying to slow my speed.

I ducked through two buildings and rocketed out onto Eighth Street. Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn't see the gray ghost anywhere. "I lost her," I whispered hopefully, but my heart told me differently. The ghost was somewhere, following me.

Panting, I paused long enough to scan the sky around me. "Where did she go?"

"The Fool."

I twirled around, the gray ghost inches behind me, the swirling bands of mist swirling around us to form a bubble and block off all my escape routes. No one could get in and I couldn't win this fight on my own. Backing away from her, my eyes wide, I asked, "What do you want?"

She didn't talk; she just threw a card in my direction. It fluttered to the ground at my feet and I glanced down at it. A knight, riding a horse, one glowing sword raised to the sky, charging into battle. _Fight_.

"Why are you doing this?" My mouth was so dry I could barely get the words out. I was trying to get her to talk, trying to delay this impossible fight until help arrived…

She held out a second card, her eyes glittering with power. The card was of a woman, bound and blindfolded, with eight gleaming swords surrounding her. _I have no choice._

"I don't want to fight you," I pleaded. "Let me go."

A last card was held up, this one of a man lying dead on the ground with ten swords stuck into him. _Then you will die_.

She was tucking two of the cards into a pocket and sliding forwards when I suddenly felt a swirl of that frozen power inside of me. With no other options around, I reached for it even though I knew I couldn't control it. Power flooded through me, ice starting to form on the ground around my feet. It was wild and powerful, uncontrollable…

And it hurt. Tears sprang into my eyes, freezing instantly on my cheeks. My body felt like it was going numb and stiff. I slammed my eyes shut, suddenly aware of the fact that I was going to turn myself into a half-human popsicle if I couldn't get some sort of control over this. It was like my ice powers, only a hundred times more powerful.

I was so buried into my mind, struggling to control whatever-it-was that I had unleashed, that I momentarily forgot all about the gray ghost standing right in front of me. That changed when she landed a solid punch to my face.

_Something_ slipped into my head and all that wild power vanished like it had never been. My eyes flickered open and I stared into the gray eyes of the ghost girl inches from mine. She looked almost worried for a second before the gray of her irises was replaced by red. _Control_, a voice whispered in my mind.

She bent down and picked up the fallen card with the charging knight on it and shot me a look, slipping the card back into her jacket. One hand came up, pointing carelessly at me, a roiling wave of power slamming into me. I threw up my hands to try and block it, but I was thrown backwards through the wall of gray fog.

I rolled to a stop, dozens of people peering out at me through windows as they cowered away from the spectral fogbank. The gray ghost floated serenely out of the supernatural bubble of mist, her dirty dreadlocks blowing around her on an invisible breeze. She hovered over me, a dark angel filled with an impossible power.

I was so dead.

Then she vanished.

For a long, quiet minute, I just sat there, staring up into the sky where she had been. The fog dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared, the ice melting in the warmth of the evening sun.

"Excellent," I whispered sarcastically, turning myself invisible to avoid the prying stares, and buried my face in my hands. "Now what?"

* * *

"Danny!" Sam skidded to a stop on a large patch of ice, her amethyst eyes searching for her friend. Tucker, panting and sweating, clomped up a few seconds later. "He was just here, Tucker. Where do you think he went?"

"Did he win?" Tucker gasped, collapsing to the frozen ground.

Sam shook her head, looking around. "I'm not sure."

Tucker swallowed heavily. "Now what? Should we try to find him?"

She hesitated, a little bit of hurt sparkling in her eyes. "No," she finally said softly. "He wants to try to figure things out on his own. If he needs our help he'll come find us."

Snorting, Tucker watched as Sam wandered up the street. "Yeah, right," he muttered. He pushed himself to his feet and followed slowly. "Dollars to doughnuts, we're going to be up all night doing research."

When the two of them made it back to Sam's house, he found out that he wasn't wrong.

* * *

I avoided my family like the plague that night. Every time my mother stuck her head into my room to see if I was there, I would turn myself invisible. From the look on her face, I think she knew I was there… but she never said anything.

It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to them… it was that I wanted to get everything straightened out first. That, and I was a little afraid of what they were going to say. I knew that they would _accept_ me and I didn't think that they were going to do anything drastic... but I still didn't want to talk to them. I had lied to them for years, broken a half-a-million promises, let them hunt me, and I had a lot of explaining to do. Prying questions were just not something I could handle right now.

Which was just one _more_ thing to add to my list of things I would have to explain when this whole thing with that tarot ghost was over.

Everything was just too confusing. What was Vlad after? He probably sent the gray ghost to scare me, Skulker to annoy me, and this 'turn me into a ghost' thing to… what? Everything was connected, everything traced back to Vlad… but what was the point? And what was up with this odd new power of mine? And the gray ghost – what was her real story? What was she doing?

The next morning, I tailed my friends invisibly to school, listening half-heartedly as they talked about what they had seen of my fight on the news, not entirely willing to be bombarded with questions from _them_ either. They'd ask me about the fight, about this new power, about my hair and my eyes… I'd answer them at lunch. Eerily though, Sam kept glancing over her shoulder, looking straight back at me as we walked.

I didn't let myself flicker back into visibility until I sank into the desk in the far corner of my first period class and let my head fall into hand crossed arms. My hat was firmly on my head to hide my hair and a pair of sunglasses kept my odd eyes hidden from view. This was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

"Mr. Fenton."

My head came up off my desk and I glanced up at my math teacher. He pointed towards the door and I flinched when I met the gaze of Mr. Lancer. I stared at him in dismay for a few moments, wondering what he was going to say. When the vice principal tracks you down during your first period, it can't be anything good. When he may or may not know an Earth-shattering secret about your life, it _really_ can't be good.

I was on my feet, grabbing my bag even before Mr. Lancer asked me to come with him. I followed him silently into the hallway and towards his office, taking my normal seat next to his desk.

He sat down, studying my hat and sunglasses for a moment. "Our talk was cut short yesterday, and we need to figure out what we're going to do."

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. So far, Lancer hadn't mentioned anything about an alter-ego. Maybe he really didn't know. But I still didn't want to be here, doing this. He was too close for comfort when it came to my ghost side. "What were the options again?"

"You talk to me about what's going on, or you talk to a counselor." I sank back into the uncomfortable chair and sighed. Mr. Lancer continued, "We're worried about you Danny. You're really stressed…"

"You think?" I whispered to myself. Ghost hunting and schoolwork was hard enough, add in Vlad and his twisted, complicated plans and I should be getting special dispensation for what I was trying to juggle in my head.

I needed an easy solution that would satisfy Lancer and put _this_ situation off. Preferably forever, if not just for a few days. "I'll make an appointment with the counselor, okay?"

The overweight teacher smiled. "Mrs. Grenwok has an opening for tomorrow morning."

"Excellent." I really didn't want an appointment for _tomorrow_, but I figured I could think of something before then. Maybe I could have Jazz call me in sick or something. "Can I go now?"

"In a second, I need to ask…" Mr. Lancer trailed off, his eyes focusing behind me, his face draining of color.

"I like the hat, whelp."

I shouldn't have turned around. I _really_ shouldn't have turned around.

Skulker was leering at me from next to the office door, his arms folded and a grin on his face. He cocked one eyebrow at me and phased through the floor. His message was clear: chase me if you dare.

"Can I go, Mr. Lancer?" I asked sourly.

He was pale, his eyes wide in surprise that a ghost had just appeared in his office. His gaze jumped to me and he have a little half-laugh. "A ghost," he whispered. "There was a real ghost in my office… with you…"

I stood up, grabbing my bag and shrugging it onto my shoulders, but not before sending him a sharp glance. 'With you?' Why had he added that? Did he or didn't he know who I was? My head hurt from trying to keep everything straight and I wasn't in the mood to deal with the paralyzed teacher at the moment. "You teach in _Casper_ High in the most haunted town in North America… and you're surprised that there's a ghost in your office?"

"We were named after the football player…" Lancer mumbled as I walked out the door.

I stuffed my bag, hat, and sunglasses into my locker and transformed in the deserted hallway. At least I could get rid of _one_ of my headaches by pounding Skulker and locking him in a thermos until Christmas. Technus needed some company. I dropped through the floor, beginning my search for the spectral hunter.

The screams drew me towards the language wing and I found Skulker in what looked like a Spanish class. "Skulker!" I scowled, readying an ectoblast in my hand. Then I noticed what he was doing.

Skulker was finishing tying a knot on a rather large net with what looked like three people inside. Three people I knew very well.

Sam. Tucker. Jazz.

"Skulker!" My voice had obtained a growl to it. I wasn't in the mood for _this_. "Let them go!"

"Make me," he snapped back, hefting the sac over his shoulder and flying towards the window.

"NO!" I followed right behind me, trying to find a way to get off a shot at the hunter without hurting my friends in the process.

"Danny!" Sam's voice was muffled from inside the sack. "It's a trap! Danny! Don't do anything rash!"

A green light flared around Skulker as he activated some sort of portable ghost portal and he vanished, dragging my friends into the Ghost Zone.

I just hung in the air, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

It was too much.

I didn't know what to do next.


	6. The Star

I'm not entirely sure how I made it to the park. But there I was, sitting morosely under a tree, my mind refusing to do anything that would be remotely helpful.

My parents knew I was a ghost.

My friends and my sister had been kidnapped by Skulker.

An impossibly powerful ghost that I couldn't beat was being forced to fight with me.

My powers were going haywire, and this new power was cropping up.

For some reason, I was slowly turning into a ghost and I couldn't control it.

Oh, and I have an appointment tomorrow with a counselor because I'm _stressed_ for some reason.

All of those things pointed to dear old Uncle Vlad. Every single thing that had happened to me over the past three days was tinged with the feel of that obsessed fruit-loop. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to _fix_ all of this!

I could go save my friends, but that would leave Amity Park and my family open for attack from Vlad and the tarot ghost. My friends being captured was obviously a trap or a lure to get me _out_ of Amity Park… I couldn't just leave. But I couldn't just _not_ rescue them.

What was I going to do? "I'm sixteen," I whispered into the air, "I shouldn't have to do this and try to figure this out on my own."

I could always go to my parents and see if they'd put off the endless questions for a few hours… No, they'd just get themselves tangled up in this and there was they wouldn't stand a chance against the gray ghost. My parents would die to protect me and it wouldn't do any good. I couldn't let that happen.

I buried my face in my hands. "It's, like, ten o'clock in the morning," I muttered darkly, "and already the day has been going on for too long."

"Could be worse," a voice said.

I looked up into the tree, blinking at two glowing, green eyes that were gazing down at me. I was so wrapped up in myself and my problems that I hadn't even _noticed_ that I was sitting right underneath the ghost from Hell. "Morning, Ember. And thank you for making my day _worse_."

"How am I making your day worse?" she asked, strumming lightly on her guitar. "I just got here and I'm not doing anything. Yet. Besides, maybe I'm here to help."

I snorted in disbelief, letting my eyes close as I leaned back against the tree. I didn't trust Ember farther than I could throw her, but my head hurt and, really, if she decided to knock me unconscious for awhile it might not be an entirely horrible thing.

She continued her light strumming, humming softly. "You know about Tarot, right?"

"The card game?"

"No, the ghost. That gray girl that's been hanging around."

I opened one eye and glanced up at her. Ember hadn't moved from her perch. "That's her name?"

Ember nodded. "She's one of the Ancients, a type of ghost that is incredibly old and powerful. There're just a handful of them. She's one, Clockwork's one…"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Pariah Dark is one," she continued softly, "Damocles was one, Ramerarai was one…" She trailed off. "Do you know what they all have in common?"

I shook my head. I didn't care and really didn't want a run down of the history of the Ghost Zone.

"Three of them have destroyed the Ghost Zone at some point."

"What?" I looked up at her, actually interested in what she was saying for the first time.

She strummed for a few minutes, her soft music flooding through the air. "Ancients are incredibly powerful. They can do more damage than you can possibly imagine."

"So?"

"So… we don't want another one loose on the Ghost Zone, that's what we want." Her guitar vanished and she dropped out of the tree to look at me.

I slipped to my feet, ready to fight if Ember decided to suddenly attack. "We?"

A very predatory smile slid onto her face. "My friends and I. You've beaten an Ancient before."

"What?" I was tired of asking one-word questions, but I was too confused to do anything more. What was Ember suggesting?

She rolled her eyes. "Listen, dip-stick. We're offering you a one time alliance, right? You deal with Tarot and we'll get your friends back."

"Why should I trust you?" I glared at her, my eyes glowing. "Every time I see you, you're trying to steal my friends or my family." Besides, she was probably working for Vlad. This twist sounded like something he'd do just to make my brain explode. The smart thing to do would be to suck her into a thermos and bury it until this whole thing was over with. But for some reason, I waited for her answer.

Ember shrugged and pushed a lock of green hair out of her eyes. "It's a one time thing; don't make a big deal out of. You scratch my back I scratch yours."

I sighed, dropping back down to the ground. This was another wrinkle that I didn't want to even have to _think_ about. True, she was offering to rescue my friends and help me out, but the fact was is that I _didn't_ trust her. She had never done anything in the past to give me any reason to trust her. And she had too many links to Skulker and to Vlad.

In the end, her showing up and offering a really good solution was just too much of a coincidence for my tired brain to accept.

"Ember…" I looked up at her, my eyes widening as a gray fog swirled into existence in the air behind her. "Ember, _move!_" I acted almost instinctively, pushing her out of the way before I had fully thought through my actions.

The gray ghost – Tarot – appeared in the sky. She floated with her hands stuffed into her pockets, her feet buried deep into the freezing mist, her red eyes glinting in the morning sunlight. "The Fool," she acknowledged, bowing her head in greeting. Her eyes flickered to the spectral siren for a moment before returning to me.

I shivered under her harsh gaze, quickly changing into my ghost form. For a long moment, we just watched each other. "Ember," I whispered, "go away." That probably wasn't the nicest way to put it, but I wanted her gone. I didn't want to have to think about what she might do while I was trying to keep track of Tarot.

"Tarot," Ember breathed, not seeming to hear my command. I glanced over at her, but her eyes were wide as she stared up at the powerful ghost. Her whole body was shaking.

Tarot seemed to be tired of waiting. She waved her hand, a thick swirl of fog shooting through the air and slamming into Ember. Ember screamed in pain. "Tarot, stop!" I yelled at her, pushing off the ground and flying up into the air. I didn't trust Ember, I didn't even _like_ Ember, but that didn't mean I wanted to see her get tortured.

The girl looked over at me, the fog vanishing. She dug through her pockets and held up a card, one I'd seen before. A knight astride a white stallion with a raised sword, charging into combat.

I was _sick_ of all this! I couldn't take it any more. Vlad's plan was too complicated, too confusing, and too head-ache inducing for me to even _try_ to figure it out. "Yes, yes, I'll fight you," I snapped. "Come on, then!" I spread my arms, an open request for her to attack.

"My hands," Ember whimpered behind me, cradling her hands to her chest. Tarot had frozen them with her mist. Tears streaked down Ember's pale face, her thick makeup tracing dark lines on her cheeks. "Give her Hell, Danny," she said with pain cracking her voice. "Don't worry about your friends, we'll get them back." Then, with one last whimper, Ember vanished.

It was just me and Tarot.

Power built up around the ancient ghost to the point where it hurt to even look at her. I closed my eyes, my arms still spread. _Crap_. What did I get myself into?

* * *

Maddie Fenton sighed and stared down at the hundreds of newspaper clippings that littered the floor. She had been looking through Danny's room for some sort of a clue that she was _right_ with her thoughts, but hadn't found a thing. Well, she hadn't found anything but a battered and dirty Fenton Thermos – but that wasn't really a blinding bit of proof. In a flash of insight, she'd quietly searched Jazz's room and found a shoebox full of things under her bed. Hundreds of newspapers clippings from around the world that centered on Phantom.

Maddie had brought the box down into the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and had looked at every single one. Most of the articles proclaimed the ghost a hero and many had pictures that went along with them. Each one of the blurry pictures had driven home just how much her son and Phantom looked alike.

Each one of the articles that portrayed the ghost-boy as evil or malevolent sent a wave of guilt crashing through her. Now that the shoebox was empty, she buried her face in her hands, thousands of feelings swirling chaotically inside of her.

Pride, terror, guilt, fear, happiness, wonder, betrayal, excitement, heartbreak, love, anguish, worry, joy…

All of her emotions crested on one thought that rang through her mind like a bell.

"Why didn't I know? What kind of mother am I?"

When Jack got home from his shopping trip a half-hour later, Maddie was still sobbing on the floor. "Mads?" he asked. He'd never seen Maddie this broken before. "Maddie, what's wrong?"

* * *

Tarot raised a hand, power lashing down through the sky. I ducked, my hair getting singed in the process. I dove towards the grass, hoping to get underground and get away from some of these more powerful attacks.

She moved with a suddenness that I'd never seen in a ghost before. She went from high above me to staring up at me from the ground in a split second. I was suddenly diving _towards_ her upraised face and bloody eyes. One hand went up and a wave of gray energy flooded out of her and slammed into me. I went flying head over heals into a tree.

"Wonderful," I coughed, slipping into intangibility to extricate myself from the clinging branches. "I just had to go and pick a fight with an Ancient, didn't I?"

I hovered just above the tree tops, glancing around. Tarot hadn't moved. She was just watching me with her eerie eyes that would flip between gray and red at a moment's notice.

_Control_, a voice whispered in my mind. I shook my head sharply, not being able to deal with anything else right now. Tarot had my entire attention. How was I going to beat her?

_Your new power. Try it again, if you think you can._

That almost killed me last time. There was no way I was going to do _that_ again. I'm not stupid, I do learn from my mistakes.

Tarot crouched down on the ground, then leapt up towards me, her tendrils of fog snaking around the tree and flying up over her head, wrapping around me like a giant net. For an insane moment, an old nursery rhyme popped into my head about going on a bear hunt. "Can't go over it," I whispered, "can't go under it. Oh no! I'll have to go through it!" I dropped, letting gravity take control as I plummeted intangibly through the tree.

I pulled up just before I hit the ground, flying towards the gray ghost with every ounce of speed at my command. She just had time to blink in surprise as I slammed into the smaller ghost with a full-body check. We both tumbled to the ground. I was on my feet almost before I hit the ground, already racing towards _anywhere_ but here.

She appeared in front of me, her head lowered, her glowing red eyes narrowed in surprised fury. One hand was up in a fist, gray energy boiling around her fingers and up her arm, her dreadlocks floating around her head like Medusa's snakes. Her fingers suddenly spread and a wave of power so strong it looked like a tangible _wall_ flying in my direction.

I threw up a shield at the last moment, but the effort was futile and I knew it. I was trying to stop a tornado with a paper fan. Her attack fizzled through me, scorching my skin and sending waves of pain up every single nerve in my body.

Panting, I stumbled away from her, not even thinking to fly. I was tired, confused, and in too much pain to try and think. "Stay away from me," I moaned.

She swirled into existence just a few feet to my left, her red eyes glinting in the darkness. _Use your new power. Control it._ Her hand came up, another attack glowing around her clenched fist.

"No," I groaned. I couldn't survive another attack.

_Use it. You can._

Another wave of gray energy rushed out of her fingers like a supernatural title wave.

I braced myself, closing my eyes and turning away.

Then I decided: what the Hell, I've got nothing to loose right now.

I reached down deep inside of me in that split-second that I had left, searching for that freezing green power that had been plaguing me for over a week. It was right there, coiled around my stomach. With the barest flicker of thought, I let it curl up around me.

Wild and uncontrolled power flared, sizzling against my skin and burning into my brain. _Control!_ a voice shrieked in my head, barely audible over my own screams as I fought to contain this _thing_ that I had unleashed.

Power flooded around me, digging into my veins and shrieking in my ears. My fingers curled up into fists and I dropped to the ground, screaming in pain. Suddenly, something felt like it _clicked _in my head. The pain vanished, the wild power disappeared, and I was left gasping for breath, my forehead pressed against the welcome cool of the ground.

For some reason, I wasn't in ghost mode anymore. I _knew_ that deep down inside of me… but I wasn't human. I didn't feel like a ghost _or_ a human. It was the weirdest feeling. It was like flying with your feet on the ground. Freezing during the heat of a summer day. Climbing stairs just to end up where you started.

Finally I managed to get my eyes to open. My fingers were dug into the thick grass, the remains of my gloves on my hands. The fingers had been burned away, leaving them looking something like the fingerless gloves Dash had taken a liking to.

Pushing myself to my knees, I fought back a dizzying urge to throw up what little I'd eaten for breakfast. I was back in my normal clothes… kind of. My t-shirt and jeans had turned a night black color, Sam's DP logo emblazoned on my shirt rather than its normal oval. "What…" I staggered to my feet, pressing my hands against the tree. "What happened?"

_Good_, the voice whispered. Tarot suddenly appeared right in front of me, her hand raised, gray eyes sparkling. _Now, use that power. Fight._

Power surged around the girl's fingers before racing towards me in a flood of gray energy. I raised my arm in a futile gesture of defense, a strange icy-green mist swirling up from the ground and deflecting her blow.

She laughed out loud, twirling around in a circle, her dreadlocks and her huge jacket flying around her. _Wonderful! You did it! Now, do it better._

"Better?" I breathed in surprise just before a huge wall of gray mist rolled over me and threw me painfully into the tree trunk. The world went black.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, Tarot was still there. She grinned at me, sitting quietly on her bank of fog just above the ground, a few feet away from me. Her eyes were back to their normal, soulless gray and she was shuffling a deck of over-large cards in her hands, waiting for me to pick myself up off the ground.

"Vlad's not control of you, is he?" I groaned as I rolled over onto my back.

Her grin grew and she shook her head.

"Then why are you doing this?"

She motioned with her hand for me to come over and see what she had. The first card she dealt onto the table was of a medieval court jester, a sword slung over his shoulder and a rose in his hand. "The Fool," she said with a smile.

"Me?" I reached out to touch the card and she nodded.

_The cards stand for things, but they can also stand for people_, the voice in my head whispered.

"Beginning, innocence, unlimited potential," she whispered, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. She flipped over another card, showing me the picture. A man with a cruel smile was stealing swords from some soldiers. "The Five of Swords. Self-interest, dishonor, discord."

I blinked down at the card, sudden understanding slipping into my mind. "Vlad…"

_Does that answer your question?_

"You're doing this… because of us? Vlad and me?" I looked at her in confusion. "Why?"

She shuffled her cards, picking another card out and smiling down at the picture of a wheel with angels and demons. "The Wheel of Fortune." _Fate, destiny._

"It's fate?" I shook my head. "I don't understand."

She smiled and nodded sympathetically, reshuffling the cards and then holding them out to me, spread in a fan. _Pick one_.

I sighed. I couldn't really press her for more answers – she was a lot more powerful than I was and I'm not sure her answers would have actually solved my problems. I reached out and snagged a card, turning it over to look down at the picture. A glowing woman was pouring water into stream, stars gleaming overhead. "The Star," I read across the bottom.

Tarot laughed suddenly, her eyes sparkling. "Hope," she whispered. "The Star means hope."

Then, once again, she just vanished and I was alone.

* * *

About an hour later, I still hadn't moved. The clock on the big tower was proudly proclaiming that it was about eleven fifteen, but I wasn't hungry enough to try and go anyplace to eat lunch. I was waiting.

I didn't have a single thought as to what was going on anymore. The gray ghost, Tarot, was apparently following her own little agenda. Ember may or may not be rescuing my friends and I had some new power that I still didn't know if I could control.

To top it all off, my parents might be onto my secret. If they weren't yet, they would be the second I walked in the house. I was _stuck_ in this weird half-ghost, half-human state. I couldn't get myself to go one way or the other. I couldn't be a ghost _or_ a human.

In the end, I had nothing left to do but wait. It was Vlad's turn to make a move. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait for long.

By eleven thirty, a ghost nameless blob of a ghost was floating in front of me, its red eyes flickering nervously at me every few seconds. It handed me a small package before taking off as fast as it could go. "Thanks," I mumbled.

The small box was ringing.

I ripped it open, grabbing the offered cell phone, and flipped it open without bothering to check the caller ID. "Hiya fruit-loop."

"Daniel," the smooth voice came through the speaker, "we need to talk."

* * *

Vlad Masters grinned into the phone, setting his three hundred dollar leather shoes onto his mahogany desk. His slave, the powerful gray ghost, was sitting in the corner, blindly shuffling her tarot cards.

"No duh," the boy's voice crackled through the phone. "You built some kind of ghost controller out of the shards of Freakshow's staff, gave me some kind of virus, kidnapped my friends, attacked my town, and now you're calling with some sort of ultimatum. What do you want?"

"Nothing more than usual," Vlad said, picking at his fingernails, impressed that the boy had figured out that much on his own. "I'm actually not calling with an ultimatum. I'm calling with a choice."

"A choice?" Danny sounded skeptical.

"Exactly. You may choose one of three options, any of which I'm fine with and I really don't care which you pick." Vlad shook his head, a predatory smile on his face. "The first is that I send my slave to destroy Amity Park and kill anyone who gets in her way while you rescue your friends."

Tarot looked up at this, her red eyes glittering in the light. She had just drawn a card from her deck, one that showed people jumping out of a burning tower and falling to their deaths on the jagged rocks at the bottom. _Downfalls, revelations, misfortunes._ She grinned happily, shuffling the card back into her deck.

"The second," Vlad continued, "is that you save your town from ultimate destruction, but your friends will die at the hands of my servants." He chuckled softly. "And the third is that you come live with me for one month, and I'll call off my slave and send your friends home to their families."

Danny was silent on the other end of the phone. Only his harsh breathing made it possible to know that the connection hadn't been cut.

"You have to pick," Vlad murmured. "You, your friends, or your town. Which will suffer? You have one hour." He clicked the phone shut, a grin on his face.

Of course Daniel would pick for himself to suffer instead of the 'innocents' around him. That was Daniel's way, and his major weakness.

"I just need that one month," Vlad said softly, listening to the quiet sounds of the cards shuffling in the background, "and I can turn him into my slave." He picked up his Plasmius Bender and smiled down at it. "Daniel will be mine."

He reached out a pushed a small button on his desk. "Begin phase five," he said aloud. Then he whispered to himself, "Just in case." Without waiting for a reply to his command, he got up and walked out of the room.

Tarot chuckled in the empty room, the card she had just flipped over showing a coffin adorned with four swords. "Perfect."


	7. The Five of Cups

I didn't wait an hour. I didn't even wait five minutes.

If he hadn't hung up on me or if he would have given me a phone I actually knew how to work, he could have had his answer within seconds. As it was, all he had to do was wait for me to figure out how to call him back on his stupid cell phone.

"Screw you."

Two simple words before energy flared around my hand and I disintegrated the phone. It really wouldn't work to have him be able to call me back.

* * *

Vlad snarled into his phone, listening to the crackle as the connection vanished. "He'll see the light. He will be mine."

He twisted around and stormed back to his office, glaring at anybody who got in his way. "You!" he snapped at the young tarot ghost sitting in his office. Her gleaming red eyes looked up into his. " Attack Amity Park, destroy everything. Bring me Daniel Phantom. Alive."

Tarot grinned and vanished.

Vlad dropped into his chair and pressed the button on his desk. "Is phase five going?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Masters," a male voice crackled back. "We sent them the information you wanted."

"Excellent." Vlad smiled. "Daniel thinks he has a lot on his plate _now,_ just wait. Soon he'll come _running_ to me and begging me to help him solve this mess."

* * *

Deep in the Ghost Zone, Ember crouched down next to a few ghosts, her hands bandaged and held carefully up off the ground. "You find 'em?"

"I found them," a short ghost whispered. "Skulker's got the three humans in a cage on his island. Really fortified, lots of painful looking weapons, a couple traps, and he's got most of his captures chained out around the cage as some kind of alarm system. Not to mention the fact that he's got a veritable _army_ stationed on the island too. Looks like Walker threw his lot in with Plasmius and Skulker."

"So?" she breathed, looking around to each of the ghosts that had joined her. "What do we do?"

A reddish ghost tipped its head to the side. "Is Phantom really fighting that Ancient for us?"

"Last I knew," Ember answered with a shrug.

The ghosts all looked at each other. Promises and vows weren't exactly legal and binding in the Ghost Zone. None of them _had_ to do anything. Ghosts are a little too selfish and self-centered to do something just because it would be the right thing to do.

Almost as one, they peered over the rocky edge and glanced down at Skulker's island.

Attacking _that_ would be a painful and not fun experience.

* * *

Tarot swirled into existence at the edge of Amity Park. For a few moments, she just hovered, gazing into town with her expressionless eyes.

She closed her eyes, her whole body relaxed. Then, suddenly, her eyes popped open and seemed to glow with a strange gray light. Her dirty dreadlocks wiped around in a bizarre ghostly breeze that had sprung up around her. The temperature for nearly a half-mile on either side of her plummeted towards freezing; every fragile thing within a quarter-mile radius suddenly exploding with the force of her power. Pure emanations of power rose from her body as a gray mist that swirled around her head and pooled at her feel. Within seconds, the mist had grown so thick you could no longer tell that she had no feet.

And then she started to walk. Trees and light posts bent over backwards as she past, apparently wanting to get away from her. Rocks, benches, cars, and anything else that wasn't bolted to the ground rose a few feet into the air as she walked.

A police officer was standing next to his car, his gun out, pointing it bravely at the apparition. "Stop!" he called, his voice cracking in fear. The gray ghost raised one hand and flicked it negligently off towards the cop. A force that rivaled powerful tornadoes and hurricanes swept past her. Within seconds, nearly an entire city block had been leveled to the ground. She didn't even bother to look at it. Her attention, and her goal, was elsewhere.

She focused her eyes on a target nearly two miles off – Casper High. "The Fool," she whispered, a small smile crossing her face. She picked up the pace, leaving footsteps of ice behind her.

* * *

I really didn't know what I was doing anymore. After leaving the remains of Vlad's phone at the park, I had wandered invisibly through town long enough to realize that I was, in fact, hungry. It was lunch time back at Casper High.

Vlad was now, probably pissed and would be sending Tarot to destroy Amity Park – a fate I would not be able to prevent. Skulker was going to kill my friends and my sister and there was no way I could get to the Ghost Zone in time to save them. Their fate rested in the hands of a psychopathic, irresponsible ghost singer that I wasn't totally sure that, in the end, wasn't really working for Vlad anyways. I couldn't just give myself up to Vlad… not even to save them. I _knew_ what would happen if I turned evil. That was a fate worse than anything that fruit-loop could concoct. I felt like I was waiting for a time bomb to go off or for the world to end.

And, sadly, I was a little too old to sit in a corner and cry for my mom. I wanted to though. The idea was _very_ temping.

In the end, my hunger and my confusion brought me to the only place in town where they combine knowledge and food: Casper High School. I slumped through the doors, and grabbed my hat and sunglasses out of my locker before turning visible and heading for the cafeteria to get something to eat. "My last meal," I chuckled softly.

I had my food in front of me, alone at one of the small tables, when what I was doing finally hit me. "Why am I _here?_" I stared around the bustling cafeteria in wonder. "I could have gone _home_," I stabbed at one of the slimy carrots with my spork, "I could have warned the _police_," another angry stab, "or, at the very least, I could be _trying to do something._"

I popped the over-cooked carrots into my mouth, not bothering to get up. "Or had my last meal someplace that serves edible foot." Going someplace and doing something sounded like an excellent idea, if only I could figure out something to do that would actually be helpful.

For the first time, I wondered if Lancer really was as smart as he claimed. Maybe I could tell him this whole thing and he could figure it out for me.

"You talkin' to yourself, Fen-turd?"

A shadow fell over my tray. "Hi Dash," I muttered. "Can you leave me alone today? I'm not really in the mood…"

"Do I look like I care?" he hissed, dragging me out of the booth. He gave a start of surprise when he saw my black outfit with a very familiar logo on it. "Why are you dressing like Phantom? You're just a loser geek."

I laughed, pushing his hands off of me. "Yeah, the end of the world is here, I have no idea what to even _start_ doing anymore, everyone I care for is about to die, and all you care about torturing me and asking me what I'm _wearing?_ That's really shallow… even for you." I brushed past him, trying to sit back down. "Now, can I go back to my last meal of… whatever this is?"

"Stop being such a freak," he snapped.

I paused, looking him straight in the eyes – not something I did very often. Around us, the temperature dropped suddenly and a few of the lights over our heads snapped and fizzled. "I'm. Not. In. The. Mood."

Dash backed off with one last, "Freak," sent in my direction. I slumped back into my seat, rubbing my temples with my fingers. I needed to do _something_. It was killing me to just sit here and do nothing…

A gasp went though the cafeteria and all the noise suddenly dropped away. I glanced at the doors out of the corner of my eye and saw five people dressed in white making their way across the cafeteria. I pushed my tray a little bit away from me and dropped my head into my arms. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that the government jerk-sicles were here for me.

_Probably_ on Vlad's orders.

"They're coming to take me away, haha, they're coming to take me away," I mumbled darkly into my arms. "Vlad gets lots of credit for this one – I _think_ he's thrown every single one of his idiotic plots together into one big huge mess. And he's totally right when he thinks that I can't handle them all on my own."

The white-suited men's feet clicked loudly against the floor as they approached through the silence, weaving their way past tables filled with staring, apprehensive teenagers. A few of the teachers had stood up, walking towards them, but hanging back when the men showed their government ID cards.

I didn't bother to lift my head. I could hear them well enough to know that they had stopped right by my table, just like I had figured they would.

"Daniel Fenton?" came a harsh voice. I didn't look up or acknowledge the men standing around my table.

Amity Park was going to be destroyed, my friends were going to die, my parents knew my secret, I was stuck in some weird half-ghost state, Vlad was probably picking out a wedding ring for my mom, and the government showed up to take me away. I really didn't think it could get any worse.

After a few seconds of silence from me, the voice continued, "Or should we call you Danny Phantom?"

There it was, it just got worse. My head clunked all the way down to the tabletop as a gasp of surprise went around the gathering teenagers that probably could have been heard in China. "Should've knocked on wood."

I lifted my head off the table and stared at the five men standing before me. None of them had weapons out in their hands. They must not think I'm that dangerous. I reached up and slowly pulled off my sunglasses, looking at them with eyes that were a startling, inhuman green. A few of the officers' hands moved towards their guns. "What do you want?" My voice sounded almost as tired as my mind felt.

The five Guys in White stared at me for the longest time. "So…" Talker, a tall blonde man with blue eyes, hesitated, "you don't deny the charge?"

I blinked up at him. "What charge? All you've said is my name."

"You _are_ the ghost known as Inviso-Bill?"

"Call me that again and you'll get to experience the rush of free-fall from three miles up." I muttered, no anger making its way into my voice. It was a statement of fact rather than a threat. "It's _Phantom_."

"Fine. So, you do not deny the fact that you are the ghost known as Danny Phantom?"

I half-smiled at him. "No." With my whole head spinning with all the problems that had been thrown at me all at once, this suddenly felt like something I could handle. These ghost hunting losers were the least of my worries.

Silence fell over the cafeteria again. Even though there were over a hundred people crammed into the cafeteria, I could easily hear the buzzing of the overhead lights. "What do you want?" I asked after nearly a minute of silence.

"Um…" Talker glanced over the muscular man next him.

They were expecting me to deny it and now I had them off balance. I knew from experience that this was either a very good thing or a very bad thing. People that were off balance tended to be trigger-happy and easy to startle, but they were also really bad at thinking things through before they acted.

Muscles saved the day for the Guys in White. "We have a couple of questions for you," he said simply.

I shrugged, interrupting before they could ask me to leave the cafeteria with them. I gestured towards the empty table. "Okay. Have a seat."

More startled blinks, more glances at each other. Not only was I not denying being the ghost they'd been hunting, I wasn't putting up any sort of fight what-so-ever. I wondered if I was feeling like Vlad did every time he caught me completely flat-footed. _That_ thought rated very highly on the 'creepy' list.

As I waited for them to decide whether or not to join me at the table, I turned back to my lunch. With everything that had been going on, my brain felt like it was shutting down. I didn't want to think about all the things that were waiting for me outside those school doors. My mind – in its current state – wasn't willing to comprehend much more than what I was eating for lunch. It was something slimy and chewy and covered in a reddish sauce. It was either spaghetti or some odd form of road kill. Maybe even snails.

I was surprised when the Guys in White actually grabbed chairs and sat down at my table. I had to struggle to control my reflexive smile – they all sat so perfect, backs straight, arms at their sides, trying their best not to let their precious white uniforms touch the filthy table or chairs.

"First," Talker spoke again, "I need to ask you what you did to Danny Fenton."

Whatever question I had been expecting, that wasn't it. I looked up at them in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"We figure you may have killed Danny Fenton a few years ago and took his place. We want to know how."

"Bzzz!" I made a buzzer noise before answering. "I have never killed anybody. Sorry to disappoint you."

Talker nodded. "Our next theory is that you are overshadowing him. Why?"

"Bzzz! Strike two. I don't overshadow 'Danny Fenton.' I tried it once about a year ago and it left me with a migraine for a week." I took a bite of my spaghetti and shuddered. This mystery lunch might kill me before anything else got a chance That would've been an interesting wrinkle to throw into Vlad's extremely complex plan. "Next."

"The last plausible theory is that Danny Fenton never existed – you've been playing him all along. Made the Fentons think that you were their son."

"Bzzz! Strike three. You're out." I twirled the end of my fork around in my lunch as I answered. "I am Danny Fenton." I glanced up at the cafeteria. All eyes were on me. I'd never seen Casper High be so quiet for so long before.

Another of the men spoke up – the guy with the weird sunglasses. "Then would you mind explaining it to us? The short version?"

I shrugged. "Lab accident. Ectoplasm bonded to my molecules. Gave me ghost powers." That was the _really _short version.

Sunglasses pulled out a device from a pocket and scanned me, watching the screen and muttering to himself.

"What other questions do you have?"

"Why are you haunting Amity Park and refusing to return to the ghost zone?" Talker leaned forwards over the table, staring at me.

"You've seen too many detective movies. I don't fall for the 'bad cop' routine." The man flushed slightly and sat back into his chair. "A few reasons, actually. One: have you ever seen the ghost zone? It's creepy and spooky. Two: Amity Park is my home, and I see no real reason to leave. It needs protecting from the meaner ghosts out there and I can _usually _do that. And three: I'm not a ghost."

"You're not?" Sunglasses asked. He passed the device he had been fiddling with to his muscular partner, who glanced at it before staring at me, his face draining of most of its color.

"Half-ghost. Half-human." I picked at my lunch and sighed. I wasn't hungry any more. Sitting here and answering questions from the idiots in white was wasting all the time I had to try to figure out what I should be doing. I never should have come here.

"And if we nicely asked you to leave Amity Park?" Muscles smiled at me.

"I don't suppose I'd want to leave, no." I finally got a good look at the device that was being handed around. It was an ecto-reader of some kind. "Are we done?" I grabbed my tray and glanced at the man sitting next to my, blocking my way out. The man didn't move.

"You're going to have to come with us."

The man was not going to move out of my way. Fortunately, when you're a powerful ghost-human hybrid with no secrets to keep, nothing to lose, and the end of the world hanging over your head, there are other ways of getting out of a confining space. I phased myself through the chair and stood up, walking over towards the garbage can.

I was about half-way there when I heard the whine of an ecto-gun. "Stay where you are, Inviso-Bill!"

I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes flaring at that idiotic name, two more lights popping and fizzling overhead. Muscles paled and took a step backwards. "I mean, Phantom. You are coming with us."

"You're in a school," I muttered darkly, ignoring them and walking the rest of the way to the garbage can, "put the guns away." Every head was swiveling to follow my path through the cafeteria.

The five men stared at each other for a moment. "You need to come with us. We need to do some tests…"

"Listen," I said simply, turning to face them, "death, doom, and destruction are on their way towards Amity Park as we speak in the form of the most _powerful_ ghost to ever have existed. I don't have an ice cube's chance in Hell of beating her if she decides she actually _wants_ to fight. On top of that, my friends have been captured and are probably being tortured as we speak, I've lost whatever ability I used to have to be part of the _normal_ human race," I yanked my hat off my head and my white bangs fell into my eyes, "My fruit-loop of an arch enemy is laughing his head off right now because he's managed to make me and _you_ dance to his little strings while he sits on his lofty throne in some far-away state, _and_ a good portion of Amity Park probably won't _exist_ by the time the sun sets." I took a deep breath, trying to stop myself from ranting to these idiots. "So I'm sorry, but I don't have time to go with you."

"If that's true," Sunglasses said softly, "what the Hell are you doing in a high school cafeteria?"

"I don't know," I whispered, running a hand through my hair. "I just don't know what to do."

Mr. Lancer burst into the cafeteria, his eyes wild as he searched the room. His gaze fell on the Guys in White for a moment, then on me, then scanned the room. "Attention students," he gasped, "There's an incredibly powerful ghost heading this way. We're in full paranormal lockdown. Please quickly, quietly, head to your designated safe zones."

The cafeteria was paralyzed as Lancer cut through them towards us. "GO!" Lancer bellowed, grabbing a few students and propelling them towards the door. The rest of the students got the hint, quickly starting to file out of the cafeteria. "You," Lancer said as he reached our small group, snagging one of the Guys in White by his sleeve. "You five are going to protect these students, hear me? Spread out and do whatever you're supposed to do. And _you_." He turned to me, that strange look back on his face.

"She's attacking already?" I asked softly, dropping all the 'does he or doesn't he know' pretenses.

He nodded. "The news report I received said she got here a few minutes ago." His face looked pained. "It also said she's leveled so much of the town that the death toll is probably in the hundreds already."

"What can I do?" I whispered to myself. I could go face this ghost, but all I was going to do was throw my life away. I couldn't beat her. She probably wouldn't even notice that I was there.

"You head to your designated safe zone," Lancer said, his eyes glinting as he glared down at me. "And don't even _think_ about leaving this school, Daniel."

"I can't just hide!" I stared around the emptying lunch room, looking anywhere but my teacher. "I need to do something. I can _help_."

"You're sixteen." His hand came down to touch my shoulder. "And you've done enough. Now get to somewhere safe."

No. I couldn't just sit by and listen to people die when I didn't even _try_. Maybe I couldn't do anything to stop her, maybe she wouldn't even know I was there, but at least I needed to try. No more people were going to die because I refused to do something. _Anything_.

I was the ghost-hero of Amity Park. Either famous or infamous around the _world_ for what I did every day. Vlad and his stupid plans weren't going to stop me from trying to protect my town and what was left of my family. If I had to die today, so be it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lancer," I whispered. I turned invisible and floated up towards the ceiling, phasing through the roof and racing off to face my fate.

* * *

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz glanced at each other from the safety of their cage. All around them, spectral creatures were snarling and biting at each other, pulling at their chains. Guards patrolled the edges, leering at their human prisoners.

"You know, we're the ghosts here," Jazz said softly, "we _could_ just get up and walk through the cage."

"Into _that?_" Tucker replied darkly, gesturing at the large, salivating spider-like ghost that had wriggled off of its chain and was trying to desperately get at them through the cage. "I'd rather stay in here until Danny comes to rescue us."

"Yeah, he'll be here any minute," Sam said with a small smile. "Danny's got to come rescue us."

The three teenagers huddled a little closer together and waited for rescue that wasn't coming.

In the distance, Skulker touched down onto his island and paced towards his captives. The order had finally come through. The humans weren't needed anymore.

The tall one was just the perfect size for a throw rug.

* * *

A large, gaudily painted and tricked-out RV pulled up to the front of the school. It had barely managed to stop before Maddie and Jack Fenton jumped out of the front seats and dashed up the stairs to the school.

Jack pulled up short, grabbing his wife's arm and pointing up into the sky at a receding figure.

"DANNY!" Maddie screamed. "Don't, please don't, please come back." She yanked her arm out of her husband's grasp and raced back to the RV. "Don't go fight that thing, please Danny, it's too strong," she prayed as she slid the car out of park.

The Fenton Family Assault Vehicle peeled away from the school and headed towards the destruction on the other end of town.

* * *

A radio crackled to life deep in the Amity Park.

"This is Lance Thunder with an update on the ghost situation. The gray ghost, who appeared on the edge of town about ten minutes ago, is heading straight for the center of town, leaving a trail of destruction behind her. Early reports say that the entire southern part of Amity Park has been razed to the ground and that hundreds of people may already be dead."

"Authorities are calling for an evacuation. Please follow the planned evacuation routes. Although this station is evacuating, we will keep you posted on the situation. Again – Authorities are calling for a complete evacuation of Amity Park. Please follow… wait! Was that Danny Phantom?"

Silence filled the airwaves.

"The authorities are classifying this ghost as a level 9.8 – much stronger than the ghost king that tried to take over Amity Park about a year ago."

The radio crackled slightly.

"To be honest folks… Phantom doesn't stand much of a chance. Wish him luck. He's our only hope."

Then the radio and the house that it had been sitting in were destroyed by a negligent wave of a gray ghost that was slowly pacing towards the center of town.


	8. The Seven of Wands

It took me a little under five minutes to get across town.

She was a lot easier to find than most ghosts I hunt. A huge bank of gray mist curled and swirled, rolled around her shoulders and cascaded to the ground, its misty fingers stretching into the distance. Destruction and chaos spread behind her like the ripples of a speeding boat. She was quietly pacing into town, her unseen feet leaving icy footprints in the cracked road.

Cars, benches, and anything else not nailed to the ground soared into the air as she walked up the street. They swirled around her like a spectral tornado, her dirty dreadlocks blowing about her. The gray ghost barely seemed to be conscious of what she was doing or of the fact that she was using any power at all.

A flying minivan that almost bonked me in the head was my clue that I really didn't want to get any closer to Tarot. "Stop it!" The howling, spectral breeze stole my words and tossed them into the sky, but the gray ghost stopped her slow pacing and raised her head to stare at me. Soulless gray eyes gazed into mine.

_Is it wrong if it's fate?_

She raised a hand and negligently waved it in my direction. A wall of gray mist rose off of the ground and rushed towards me. I braced myself for the collision as best as I could, but the blast threw me through the air. I cart-wheeled a few times before stopping my fall and shaking my head to clear it. My ears were ringing.

Ectoplasm gathered in my hands and I shot two brilliant bolts of green in her direction. Just before they hit her, she twisted into a mist and the bolt went straight through. When she reformed, her expression hadn't changed one bit. She was still heading towards town. A hand came up to wave at a building off to her side. The resulting wall of energy disintegrated the duplex and anyone who happened to be inside.

"No!" I shot at her several more times, to absolutely no effect. She didn't even seem to realize I was there or that I was doing anything. She just kept up her steady pacing towards the center of town.

Snarling in desperation, in the desire to actually do something and not just watch people die, I let myself fall out of the sky, my fist aimed for her head. When my hand met her dirty gray hair, her form dissolved into mist. I went straight through, stumbling and tripping on the ground behind her.

"AH!" I screamed, throwing wild punches, kicks, and even trying to tackle her to the ground. She never slowed, never gave any indication that I was there other than allowing her form to momentarily switch between that gray mist and a solid.

"You can't just kill everyone!" I pushed myself into the air, flying in front of her and throwing a few of my ice rays at her. She didn't even blink, much less stop her inexhaustible pacing. "Stop!"

I formed a sword out of ice and chopped at her, poking her with the point. Nothing.

The sad truth was curling itself up in my stomach. She wasn't here to play with me anymore. Tarot was here to destroy… and there was nothing I could do about it. They were a block closer to town, and I hadn't done anything that had even made her slow down.

"Wait," I gasped, dropping to the ground a few feet in front of her and dropping to my knees. When all else fails, beg. "Please!"

Strangely, she hesitated, glancing down at me. She blinked a few times, tilting her head to the side, waiting.

"You don't have to do this," I pleaded.

She shook her head slowly, pulling one of her cards out. She walked up to me, pressing the card into my hand before stepping around me and continuing on her way. The tarot card was one I'd seen before. A wheel with angels and demons fluttering around the edges. The Wheel of Fortune. Destiny. Fate.

"Please," I whispered, not caring if she heard me, desperately searching for a way out of this.

_It's destiny, child. I must attack Amity Park and you must fight me. Our fates are sealed._

"I can't win! I don't want to fight you."

_The future will be brighter._ Tarot turned around to look at me, her gray eyes calm as she destroyed around building. _You must have faith in destiny. You need to look to the future._

"You're killing people!"

_Then stop me._

I pushed myself to my feet and raced after her in an attempt to tackle her again. An arm of mist slammed into my chest in mid-tackle and I was sent flying through the air. I crashed into a half-demolished building. I staggered out of the building and stumbled back onto the street, blocking her path, trying to ignore the blinding pain in my arm and the green-tinted blood that was trickling into my eyes. "I can't let you hurt anyone."

She didn't even bother to look at me this time. A hand came up, freezing power rushing towards me, tossing me off to the side. The tar between us shattered into a million pieces, rocks pelting me as I curled up and tried to turn myself intangible. A huge section of road careened towards me, slashing my leg as it blew past.

I screamed as green blood gushed out of my leg. Pain was thudding through my brain. All I could do right then was lie in a puddle of my own supernatural blood and wait for the end to come. After all, whatever happens is in the hands of destiny, right?

* * *

Maddie Fenton slammed on the breaks, the Fenton RV skidding into a turn before coming to a halt. A broken building was lying across the street, preventing her from getting to her son. "Danny," she murmured, throwing the RV into reverse and zipping back up the street.

Jack leaned over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, the other hand gripping his Fenton Bazooka a little tighter. "We'll get there. He'll be fine."

Maddie pushed the gas a little harder.

* * *

Skulker stared at his cage full of humans in anticipation. They weren't the prize he had been hoping for, but they were better than nothing. He didn't have any human pelts yet, and the smaller girl's skin was exceptionally fine. Her pale skin would look really nice next to his fire place.

"You'd better stay away from us," the red-head was announcing, "or my brother will come here and you'll be sorry!"

"Smooth," Tucker muttered.

Skulker laughed in amusement. "You think the whelp is going to come here to save you? He's rather busy right now dealing with an Ancient that Plasmius sent his way. Besides," he gestured towards the dozens of guards floating around, "do you think _one_ ghost could get through all of them?"

"No," a voice called, and the teenage rock star appeared over their heads, her bandaged hands painfully holding onto her precious guitar, "but I'm sure a _hundred_ ghosts could."

"What?" Skulker said blankly, his good mood evaporating.

"Charge!" Ember screamed. Her fingers strummed the stings of her guitar and an ear-shattering power chord echoed through the Ghost Zone.

Hundreds of ghosts poured out of the Ghost Zone, all of them racing towards the small island and the prison guards. Battle cries rose from their throats as they readied every weapon they could find and slammed into the guards' shields.

Just over the din of battle, Tucker turned to Sam and grinned. "Now _this_ is a rescue."

* * *

I opened my eyes, blinking blearily up into the sky. Gray mist was rolling all around me. "Damn it all with destiny," I snapped, trying my best to ignore the stabbing pain in my leg. I levitated up a few feet and flew over to hang in front of Tarot one last time. "I'm going to stop you, somehow. And then I'm going to rescue my friends, and talk to my family, and stop Vlad once and for all!"

She ignored me.

"That's what heroes do!" I yelled as she slipped past me. "I don't care what destiny says. You're not going to kill anyone else."

Tarot turned to look back at him. Her expressionless face sent chills flowing down my back as she studied me, watching the blood drip off my leg and form a green puddle on the frozen ground. A card was in her fingers and she twirled it almost absently. Her head tipped to the side as I finally caught a glimpse of the card. The Fool. My card. "Unlimited potential," she said softly. "The start of something new." A small smile flickered on her face. "Being true to yourself and taking 'crazy' chances."

"What do you want me to do? I _can't_ fight you."

She held out the card, the happy figure of the court jester laughing at me. "Beginning of a new adventure, expanding one's horizons, letting go of your worries and your fears… _believing_." _You need to listen to what your card is trying to tell you._

Tarot pulled another card from her deck and held both of the cards up. One was my card, the other was the card I had drawn from her earlier that day: The Star. _Have hope, child, and don't forget what your card means._

She carefully tucked both of the cards away before raising her hand to point at me. The edge of her too-long sleeves dangled past her fingertips in an almost comical way. A mass of power built up around her, dreadlocks standing up until she looked like a childish Medusa.

"No," I whispered, floating backwards a few feet. Another blast like that previous one and I was dead.

She stared into my eyes for a moment, then unclenched her fingers. Power lashed out towards me.

_Learn to fight or learn to die alongside everyone you hold dear. Here is the chance for you to prove you've been listening to the cards of fate._

The gray mist uncoiled, striking towards me like a snake. I stared at it, my eyes widening in panic. "No… no… NO!" I reached for that cold power that was coiled inside of me, throwing it out into the world without any thought of what it could do. It shimmered around me like a green mist, completely destroying the wall of gray that Tarot had sent towards me.

I dropped to the ground, tired, wincing at the sharp pain when my leg hit. The pool of green blood had frozen solid, traceries of frost etching on the ground away from me. The three remaining light bulbs within a hundred yards of us suddenly burst at the new wave of power that had washed out of… me.

I looked up, gazing into the soulless eyes of the most powerful ghost to ever have existed.

_Better. _The voice in my head sounded almost pleased. _Now, get up and fight for your town._

* * *

Vlad, safe in his mansion in Wisconsin, watched the fight on his large-screen TV. He had, at first, been planning on eating some popcorn and chortling at his disastrous soon-to-be apprentice. It was going to be a fun time at the movies.

Of course, that had all changed the minute his slave had started her path of destruction, taking his order to 'destroy Amity Park' a little more literally than Vlad had figured.

"She's a lot more powerful that I thought…" he muttered. There would be nothing left of Amity Park by the time she was through with it. "Pity. I had such wonderful plans for that area of town, too."

He'd been almost happy when Daniel had finally shown up. Vlad watched the battle play out, his mouth dropping open as he stared at the screen. He hadn't expected Daniel to be _that_ outclassed. There was absolutely nothing the young halfa could do to his servant.

He glanced down at the Plasmius Bender with the half-thought to end the fight. Of course, there was no way to control the ghost from this distance. He had spent _months _coming up with this plan and putting all the pieces together. And now it was all falling apart. "I ordered her to bring me Daniel alive, so at least he will survive this… disaster."

But Maddie! Vlad sat up for a second, stroking his chin in thought. However, if he was going to be truthful with anybody, it would be himself. The truth was that if Daniel was loosing, then he did not stand a much better chance.

Even for the love of his life, he wouldn't place himself in that much danger.

So he just sat there and continued to watch his plan unravel, trying to decide how to pick up the pieces.

* * *

The gray ghost was watching I staggered to my feet. Her head tilted slightly to the side, as if contemplating me like I was a piece of art. I glowered at her, keeping as much weight off of my slashed right leg as possible.

She sent another wave of power rolling my way, tearing through the eaten-up ground. I raised my arms and focused. Power built up inside of my, forming a greenish mist that swirled and danced around me. Ice started to form on the edges of buildings around me as the temperature dropped.

I flung out my hand, the green mist leaping forwards and sending me skidding backwards a few feet and to my knees. My attack collided with the gray ghost's attack. When the assaults met, they swirled haphazardly for a second before dissipating into the air.

When I regained my balance, I glanced up at the gray ghost. Her face was expressionless, but now her full attention was on me and she had stopped destroying Amity Park. Perfect.

She coiled a bit of mist around her hand and flung it at me, almost experimentally. When I managed to block it, a small smile crossed my face. I couldn't keep this up for long. But perhaps long enough.

* * *

Tucker leaned out of the cage, waving up towards the battling rock star. "Are you going to get us out of here?"

She dove through the air, hovering just in front of the cage. "No, human, I was planning on just leaving you here to rot. I'm attacking for no reason."

"Where's Danny?" Sam demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at the ghost.

"The dip-stick's busy," Ember retorted, blasting a guard that had gotten too close. "You comin'?" She held out her hand as Sam stubbornly shook her head.

Tucker and Jazz grabbed onto Ember, clinging to her for a ride back to the human world. Tucker reached down and grabbed the top of Sam's backpack just before Ember took off, dragging her human cargo away from the battle.

* * *

Vlad leaned forwards in his chair, staring at the screen. "When did Daniel learn to do that?" he wondered. "A side effect of my virus?

He couldn't tear his eyes off of the fight; however a smile was forming on his face. His carefully designed plan was back on track. Daniel was doing exactly what Vlad wanted. Daniel would undoubtedly "win" his battle now. Vlad chuckled. _Perfect_.

"Now." He grabbed for his forgotten popcorn, unable to wipe the satisfied smile off of his face. "We have a show."

The smile vanished quickly though. The thick layers of ice the two ghosts were causing covered the camera lens, blocking his view of the fight. "Oh, butter biscuits."

* * *

_You're doing well, child, but you are still not fighting like you could._

I threw another powerful wave of that green mist towards Tarot. She easily destroyed it, but at least she wasn't making any headway. All of her attention was focused on me for the time being, not on destroying my town.

And then everything went to Hell in a hand basket.

"Danny!" I heard Sam scream when she was still quite a few blocks away. I glanced up in horror, staring at my something-more-than-my best friend as she dropped out of Ember's grasp and ran towards me. Tucker and Jazz were just a few steps behind her.

"No!" I yelled, struggling to my feet. "Stay away!"

Tarot turned her head to stare at the encroaching humans before glancing back at me. _Will you be The Fool now?_ She raised her fist as a chilling smile crept over her face, her arm pointed towards my friends. A wave of power built up around her hand, ice flowing around her and adding to the thick layer of ice that was already coating the ground. _Unlimited potential._ _Taking the crazy chance. Trusting the flow. _Her eyes never left mine as she waited. Power coalesced into a thick mass of writhing mist around her fist.

"No, please, not them…"

She opened her fingers, the powerful mist snaking out and racing down the street towards Tucker, Sam, and Jazz, ripping the tarred road to pieces and digging a three-foot trench in the dirt as it passed.

I watched it move in almost slow motion. There was absolutely nothing I could do – I could not reach my friends in time. Tears streamed down my face and my heart felt like it was breaking as I stared at them. I did the only thing that I could think of, the craziest chance I could come up with. I gathered this strange, new power into my fists and launched myself at the one thing I could reach: Tarot.

Just before I reached her, a small smile crossed her face. _Good, child. Now you are The Fool._

My green mist swirled and slammed in the gray fog that coiled around the ghost girl. My body crashed into hers, knocking her backwards. Both of us tumbled through the air for a moment before landing, hard, on the ground.

"Let's finish this."

* * *

Jack and Maddie Fenton stumbled out of their RV just in time to watch the ending. They watched in horror as Danny reached back a hand to punch the gray ghost, but the colliding swirls of green and gray mist suddenly became uncontrollable and savage. The mist twirled drunkenly around the two ghosts, each color fighting for dominance. The two ghosts were buffeted and knocked around, both ghosts lost to the fury of the power that raged around them. Within seconds, their forms were lost from sight.

The odd green and gray tornado swirled uncontrollably for a few minutes, completely destroying everything in its path. When it finally dissipated, pieces of rubble from the numerous shattered buildings rained down all over Amity Park. In the area of the most destruction, thick layers of ice began to slowly melt.

There was no sign of the gray ghost.

People slowly began to peek out of basements and shelters, surveying the damage done to their poor town. Nearly half of the city was completely decimated, very little left standing. Once they got around to counting the dead, the loss of life would be great, probably numbering into the thousands.

Amongst all the chaos, nobody noticed a single piece of black fabric that fluttered down through the sky near the edge of the havoc and destruction. On the fabric was a strange white symbol, a stylized D with a P in the middle.

Nobody, except one bruised and bloody teenage girl. She grabbed the fabric as it fluttered past her, almost as if she were drawn to it. She stared blankly at the symbol for a few seconds. Then she burst into tears and collapsed to the ground.

A bit of green mist – all that was left of the heroic Danny Phantom – swirled up around her like dust when she hit the ground. Then it settled back to the ground and all was still.


	9. Death

761\. That was the number of official missing persons reports turned in to the Amity Park Police Station as of two weeks after the disaster. That accounted for 760 regular humans and one heroic half-ghost.

534\. The number of bodies uncovered in the rubble as of the two week anniversary.

227\. The number of people that were still missing; most presumed dead.

214 billion. The estimated damage costs to the city of Amity Park and the surrounding area.

142\. The number of newspapers around the globe that proclaimed the ghost Danny Phantom/Danny Fenton a hero for apparently sacrificing his life to protect the lives of as many people as possible.

76\. The number of newspapers around the world that wrote that Danny Phantom/Danny Fenton was an evil menace who caused the whole mess in the first place.

8\. The number of ghost attacks in the past two weeks. All of which had gone unopposed, except for token resistance by the Fentons.

6\. The number of signatures required on the form to state that Daniel Fenton, aged 15, a.k.a. Danny Phantom, was officially declared dead based upon the preponderance of the evidence, although his body had not yet been located and the legal seven year time limit had not passed.

0\. The number of Fentons that had shown up for the signing of the form.

* * *

Sam seemed to stumble through the two weeks following the attack. Everywhere she looked, she could see images of her best friend – her better than best friend, really – and each one brought more tears to her eyes. A few days ago, she had run out of tears to cry. Pictures of him just brought her to a misty standstill, her mind suspending for a moment, before she continued on.

None of the Fentons were willing to admit that their son was really dead. For over a week they had locked themselves up in their basement laboratory, which had surprisingly survived the battle, searching for any trace of Danny's ectosignature in either world. When they had emerged, admitting defeat to that, they had still refused to think of him as dead. Even Jazz – the one in the family with her head out of the clouds – was firmly in denial.

Sam, though, was different. She knew two weeks ago that Danny was dead. She had known the instant it had happened. No amount of searching, praying, crying, or wishing would bring him back… and she hadn't even tried.

Deep inside of her, it hurt that she had given up on him so fully when there were others who still thought that he was alive. She'd always – in her worst nightmares – been the one person who refused to stop waiting for him. She had dreamed that she would be plagued by the specter of his memories, tormented by the question of whether someone who was half-dead could really die.

And in reality… she'd given up so easily. _That's_ what hurt, and that's what brought tears to her eyes.

Which was why, two weeks after the attack, she was wandering blandly towards Danny's memorial service without a tear in her eyes. She was out of tears and Danny was dead. It was as simple as that. There hadn't been any outbursts of rage. No ranting. No fury. No fear. No sorrow. Just… blank understanding.

Tens of thousands of people were showing up for the public memorial at the quickly repaired park. Newspapers from around the world had sent representatives, government officials were being escorted to a special section, and people from all over the nation were cramming through the gates. The memorial was due to start at 12:27 – exactly two weeks, to the minute, after Danny had passed away.

As Sam passed through the gates, people brushing past her as they struggled to find a seat, someone jostled her. Sam stumbled, catching herself with an outstretched hand against the short wall that surrounded this section of the park. She froze, staring at her hand. Someone had – long ago – placed a warning poster about ghosts and, specifically, Phantom on the wall and no one had thought to take it down before the memorial. Her hand was touching his face.

Once again, from beyond the grave, her best of best friends had saved her from falling.

Unbidden and unexpected, a tear trickled down her cheek, making her mascara run a bit. Sadly, strangely tired, Sam felt a small smile pull at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers brushed over his portrait for a moment longer before she straightened and turned to head back to her seat. She hesitated.

There, standing just in front of Sam and glancing at her with a haughty air, was the one and only Paulina Sanchez. Dressed elegantly in black, Paulina and her group of friends were already attracting photographers. Sam, still dressed in her usual gothic attire, couldn't hold a candle to the A-List.

Sam felt a small tremor flicker through her as a photographer walked up to the group and asked for a picture, asking questions about their relationship with Danny. Paulina, fake tears in her eyes, explained to the press how she'd been Phantom's number one fan, best of friends, and how _devastated_ she was that Danny was gone.

All the while, after every lie, she would glance over in Sam's direction.

Each lie, each twist of the truth, each declaration of undying love, devotion, and friendship made Sam's fists curl a little more. Paulina had the reporters dangling on her strings. Strings of lies.

The fourteenth or fifteenth glance over in Sam's direction was the last straw. Danny might be dead, but that didn't mean people could take advantage of everything he'd done. "What do you think you're staring at, huh?!" Sam snarled as she finally wiped the tear off her cheek, pushed through the circle of reporters, and stalked up to Paulina to glare straight into her eyes. "We're not all emotion-faking witches."

Blinking, Paulina took a small step backwards. Then her perfectly shadowed eyes narrowed, the tears still threatening to fall. "Don't you think I care that he's dead? I loved Phantom too."

"_No!_" Sam startled herself when the word came out as a scream of pure fury. Trembling in rage, words were suddenly bubbling out of her mouth. For two weeks, she'd been so quiet and ghost-like, but now the cork had come out of the bottle and she couldn't stop it. "You didn't. You had no _idea _who he was and what he went through and how wonderful he was all the time and how he would drop everything to do what was _right_ and just how _strong_ he was to take what you _jerks_ gave him _every single day_ and still be the hero. You couldn't _possibly_ have loved him, and you can't possibly miss him as much as I do." Her rant, quickly escalating in volume to a yell, was attracting attention from all over the park.

Paulina took another step away from the irate Goth in surprise. "Calm down, bruja –"

"_Don't you dare call me that!_" Sam glared up at the taller young woman, her whole body shaking with the emotions that were threatening to finally boil over.

"Sorry," Paulina murmured, catching Sam by surprise. "I didn't mean that. Sam."

Sam's eyes closed. "I don't want to fight here. I can't fight at his memorial."

"Sam?" Tucker appeared next to her, his red-rimmed eyes worried as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, and wondered what had caused the sudden burst of rage. A bit of him was thankful – it wasn't healthy to keep those emotions bottled up. "You okay?" He could feel the fury trembling in her body and he turned his attention to Paulina for a moment, a bit of protective anger curling in his stomach.

"Yes," she ground out. "I just want to go sit down."

"You sure?" he asked, fully intending to do whatever was necessary to protect his best friend. She always came across as the strongest of the three, but he knew just how fragile she really was.

After a long moment, Sam let out a deep breath and relaxed, setting the lid back on her bubbling emotions. "Yeah," she whispered. "I'll be fine."

Tucker nodded, then started to steer Sam towards the seats reserved for the Fentons. He hesitated when a man stepped in front of him with a smile. "I'm from the _New York Times_. Can I ask what that was about?" the man asked, his notebook already out to jot notes.

"Tucker Foley," Tucker said pointing a thumb at himself before gesturing to Sam. "Sam Manson. Sam wants to go sit down, so move please."

The tall man, with a flicker of understanding in his eyes, stepped out of the two friends' way even as he turned skeptical eyes towards the young woman who had been professing to be Phantom's best friend. After watching that outburst, and knowing that those two were Danny's best friends, he would have to ask around before he put anything about Paulina into his article.

Finally, at 12:27pm, everyone had found their seats.

The announcer, with one last glance at the assembled Fentons, friends, classmates, government officials, newspaper reports, and various citizens from around the nation, opened his mouth and took a deep breath to begin the memorial service.

* * *

"Tucker, what on Earth are you doing?" Sam muttered about fifteen minutes into the program, leaning over to check out what Tucker was typing into his PDA.

He glanced up and let a small smile slip onto his face. "Oh, nothing," he whispered back. "Just starting phase one of 'Operation Payback'."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. _"During_ Danny's memorial?"

"He would have wanted it that way," Tucker said solemnly, pressing the 'send' key on his digital device and sitting back to pay close attention to the rest of the memorial. "Best time in the world to send out some critical information to five new friends."

Sam studied her smirking friend for a moment before turning back to watch the memorial, surprised at the fact that she was suddenly feeling quite a bit better. _Yes, that is what Danny would have wanted._

Settling back to enjoy the memorial, Sam felt a sort of peace settle around her, tears beginning to trickle silently down her cheeks and sorrow curling around her heart. But she knew, deep inside, that everything would be alright in the end.

* * *

Vlad scowled at the newspapers, all of which quietly proclaimed his brilliant plan a complete and utter failure. Not only had he failed to secure Daniel as his apprentice – which he still couldn't comprehend how that hadn't worked – but he had almost gotten his beloved Maddie killed _and_ Jack had somehow survived the whole ordeal. The only positive thing to the mess was the fact that the section of town that he had been planning on demolishing and rebuilding as high-priced condominiums was going to come at a greatly reduced price and pre-demolished.

Of course, the knowledge that the whole world now knew that half-human, half-ghost people were completely plausible was going to throw a monkey-wrench into his plans. It wouldn't take a genius to find out about Daniel's accident and his accident twenty years previously and connect the rather obvious dots. Combine that with a set of records that would show – even to a louse – that he'd overshadowed quite a few people to get what he wanted…

In a fit of frustrated anger, the newspaper in Vlad's hands suddenly burst in flames. Vlad tossed the smoking bits of paper into the fireplace with a sigh. Now there was just the question of what he was going to do about it.

He could go into hiding before anyone figured out what was going on. That would be turning his back on twenty years of hard work. Running away. Cowardice. The very thought rankled against Vlad's nerves. There was a better way; he would just bribe the right people, overshadow a few of the denser ones that didn't understand the value of money, and destroy the right records.

It would take only a few days to completed erase any bit of information that could possibly lead from Daniel to him. Already he had a list of things that needed to be completed – it was just waiting to get started. Vlad, however, felt no specific hurry to get it done. In all the fervor over Amity Park, no one in their right mind would be looking into the possibility of other half-ghosts. It would be _months_ before people would start to think about it.

Vlad steepled his fingers and let a small smile cross his face. He was not one of smartest and craftiest businessman in the world for no reason. No ordinary human would be able to catch him.

The doorbell ringing startled him out of his thoughts. He rose from his chair, glancing once to make sure all of the thrown newspaper had made it into the fireplace and wasn't going to start a fire, and made his way through the house. "Another well-wisher," he muttered darkly. "The big idiot must have fewer friends than I thought if everyone is sending condolences about Daniel to _me_."

Vlad arranged what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face and opened the door. Five men in immaculate white suits were standing on his front porch. "Mr. Masters?" Talker queried with a small, half-hearted smile.

Vlad arched an eyebrow but refused to respond. As the seventeenth richest man in the world, he should be recognized on sight – especially by these government rejects. His mind was churning about why the Guys in White were on his doorstep. If they were here about some stupid ghost-contamination again, he was going to sue the government harshly this time…

"Or, based on the anonymous information we've just received, should we call you Mr. _Plasmius_? We have a few questions we'd like to ask you."

* * *

"Now what?" Ember curled her fingers a few times, wincing at the ache that simple action caused but not saying anything. Far be it from her to complain about something as trivial as pain. Thankfully, ectoplasm was surprisingly resistant to freezer burn and her hands were getting better by the day.

A stoat, reddish ghost, still nursing a crushed arm from the attack, glanced at her from the other side of the small cave. "What? What else is there to do?"

"Vlad's going to kill us," Ember muttered, "and there's no annoying dipstick to stand in the way."

One of the other ghosts that had taken part in the fight – an overly large green fellow – jumped to his feet. "You afraid of that lousy half-ghost? He ain't got _nothin'_ on us!" He threw his fist in the air and shouted excitedly. "We da bomb!"

Ember scowled. "_Da bomb_? If you're so powerful, why are you hiding in here with us?"

The large green ghost hesitated, lowering his arm. "'Cause Skulker and Walker are on the warpath after we rescued them two humans." He glanced around at the nineteen other ghosts crammed into the tiny space. "And I'm sick of bein' thrown in that stupid jail."

"Here, here," one of the nameless ghosts murmured.

"So how long do we hide in here?" Ember wondered softly. She, of course, planned to leave as soon as she was healed enough to show those two morons who was boss - a couple more weeks, at most.

The other ghosts exchanged looks, then shrugged. "Eternity sounds good," one of them stated softly and the rest nodded. But, secretly, all of them knew that Ember wasn't going to hang around much long and – since she was by far the strongest of them – each one was planning on sneaking out with her when she left.

* * *

Tarot sighed as the last of her figure finally reformed in her lair. She hadn't expected it to take quite that long to pull herself back together. The Fool was a lot stronger than she had anticipated. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and stared about the small, dark, colorful room, a small smile on her face.

Her cards appeared in her hands and she shuffled them absently, trying to decide what she wanted to do next. There were billions of humans she could read, thousands of ghosts, a nearly infinite number of futures.

But, really, there was only one fate that she was really curious about at the moment: her own. She pulled a card from her deck, grinning down at the picture of a woman blindfolded and surrounded by eight gleaming swords. "We are all powerless in the hands of fate, even the strongest of us."

Quietly shuffling the cards, she ordered the candles to relight, giving the room a happy glow. "But everything is for the better, when you finally reach the end."

A card slipped out from between her nimble fingers and fluttered to the floor. Tarot stooped to pick it up. "Death," she said in surprise, staring down at the grim picture. "I know who needs to see you right now."

Then, with a smile, the card evaporated in her fingers. She folded her legs and sat down at her black table to do another spread and learn what was going to happen next.

* * *

Sam, still sitting at the memorial service, stared at the Tarot card that had fluttered down out of the sky to land in her lap. A skeletal knight, astride his steed. "Death," she whispered, a shiver running down her arms. The passage from her Tarot book came floating back to her mind, unbidden.

_Death is one of our deepest fears – not because of the pain of dying, but because of the fear of eradication, the fear of a permanent ending. As many know, Death is not the end, but merely a transition to a new state of being. Life goes on forever, eternally, in its purest essence, if not always in the same form. To grow, to live, and to thrive, we all must "die" in order to leave the old parts of our lives behind and give birth to the new parts of our lives._

_In Tarot, Death represents an ending, yes – but an ending that will bring with it great change. This card brings with it sadness and unwillingness to let go, but also relief that there is a proper ending taking place before something new starts up. So, in a way, Death also represents a beginning._

_Death is inevitable and inescapable. But true heroes take that in stride and race alongside fate to see where it takes them. Death is merely another step in the road of life._

Sam wiped a tear off her cheek. "Danny is in a better place." She looked up at Tucker, and, for the first time since the disaster, managed a weak smile.

Tucker nodded. "We'll see him again, someday."

As the sun shown brightly over the memorial service, Sam and Tucker sat quietly and watched a bird fly through the bright blue sky. Danny's memorial gleamed and glittered in the sun. Far in the distance, the leveled section of town was already starting to be rebuilt, powerful machine moving tons of rubble out of the way.

Life would continue without Danny Phantom. And, for the first time in a long while, all was peaceful in Amity Park.

* * *

The rumble of a truck grinding up the destroyed road brought a cloud of dust into the air. The driver, intent on missing the largest of the potholes and crevices, didn't even bother to look behind him. He should have – for he would have seen the dust his truck had thrown into the air.

It glowed with an eerie green light.

And, as the normal dust settled back onto the ground, the eerie green mist continued to float, seeming to come together into a ball. Slowly, other tiny specks of green mist left the ground to add to the glowing ball.

Deep in that ball of light, consciousness stirred, stretching.

Death is merely another step in the road of life.

And, after all, what is death to creature who is half-dead already?


End file.
